Homage to Kindliness

The dust of old dreams
Caught thinly in the glass of morning light;
A rocking chair, creaked,
A scurrilous rodent, creaked
A rusty hand swept along a window pane!

So flies sleep disembowelled
Wingless weary shells as maggots have;
The attic timbres, spoke,
The moth linen, spoke
The mouth wrought itself a shallow pain!

Dried teabag skin stretches
Creeps delicately into baldaquin books;
And dead pages, wept,
And nostalgia, wept
And the world had no way of knowing!

With last nights whitening ash
She entered the room as lonely as a chill;
This rooms, kindliness,
This kisses, kindliness
She took to her bed like a new moon to an old sky!