A Pocketful of Changes
Snakes wearing dresses with too many pockets;
concealing their weapons hidden from sight.
florals and stripes with pretty bows flowing; eager to please before claws start to swipe.
Sweet fragrant Laughter, safe in small spaces;
Slipping from focus, waiting to strike.
Satin swishing, shiny and sparkling;
Supple butter leather as flexible blades
Petticoats padding, soft lacy layers;
Hiding the secrets of scented cool flesh.
bonding in earnest;
Too many choices,
Iridescent colour wrappings,
as scales catch the light
Hasty decisions drift on calm waters;
Masking the depths that fathoms hide well
Poised but not striking
Whilst tracking its prey;
Boundaries once mirrored starting to waiver
Indecipherable hissing, as coils loosen lips.
Hypnotic eyes twirl psychedelic colours;
Inner chatter so loud it’s difficult to think.
Sharing details of similar life stories;
Smiling and nodding, as that jugular vein starts to flow,
The travelling suitcase of fabrics and perfumes;
Enveloping the little one with starry eyed trust.
Little Bird hops closer, coloured feathers displayed
Slithering closer, with organised practice;
Tell me what ails you,
rest against these safe hips.
Ssshhhh, trusting soul, tell me your fables;
A mother figure needed,
A mentor, my dear.
Trapped amongst vipers, yet no way of knowing;
Everyone’s favourite, “Such a sweetheart”, they say.
The tummy lurches loudly
a somersault of questions;
Don’t be silly, my friend,
Your memory often plays tricks;
The Serpent’s forked tongue, primed from the edge
The air descends thickly, cut with their knives,
Wardrobe doors open, showing more dresses, attention distracted
Long silky gowns with spaghetti thin straps,
50’s poodles that scrunch fully starched.
The tongue quietly flicks through the heavy scent on the breeze;
Warm and inviting, a new era has dawned.
Too many dresses, which one is your favourite?
Which dress is prettiest, which one will last?
Sweet satin mysteries or clean, fresh, crisp cotton,
The flashy designer frock, hanging in state?
The quaint fabric tea dress or one that sparkles,
The tight fitting formal, resplendent with pearls?
The psyche must be heard,
Under the shadows of doubt;
Sloughing their skins
There’s no easy way out.
worthless once more
Crawling in ashes,
Blood on the hearth stones,
Cinderella is dead.
@Swirlingfire, 16 March 2020
A #365Words exploration
#WickedWednesday – Perseverance
Denial #sb4mh of trusting gut feelings/what we believe we should persevere as some thing of perceived value is worth the hard work required to save it
Perseverance WW – when presented with truth we are in denial