Nightly trips to the water closet
Stranger
creaking through a strange house.
Dark hallway sighing through the
floorboards.
Bare feet shuffling,
Trying not to wake the rooms
I pass.
Light flares,
my rods and cones doing their dance.
An exchange of waters
and a glass to fill me up.
The darkness comes
at the speed of light.
Now I’m quietly rushing
For the strange house is chasing me,
Back to the sheets
that are my safety from
monsters in the hall.
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Sarah
Father, Husband, Theological Dreamer, Web Designer, Photographer, Coffee Chugger... Jesus obsessed & dreaming of a better Christianity. It's kind of like listening to a cross between guerrilla radio and a street corner prophet with a bad case of tourettes.
