Those Wooden Floors
As white as the soap that suds rapidly within
the sink would be only one way to describe
the shade of my skin- the color of your bedsheets
The sheets that now lie on the wooden floors that
resemble tree trunks I used to climb.
Those wooden floors are yours
I am simply an unknown visitor that
pads along on top of them. It's your
feet they are the most familiar with,
your feet they are the most content with
I go unacknowledged, walking along the
sheets on the floor.
Temporarily they lay- as you do in the
light of the morning
Chest rising, chest lowering
The front porch can be reached quietly from here
It's there I stand comfortably- This wood is familiar
in its similarities to the tree trunks
I never dared to climb.