Red terracotta brick silently strong below
Porcelain that clinks, prettily.
No one notices. Tiny feet
Sneak across the dusty floor.
Grab a cookie from the plain red jar
While silk clad figures
Debate over tea whether
The way things have always been done still works.
Behind a shadowy screen, wide eyes watch
The show,
Like we always do.
great poems, thank you
Thanks!
Nice job! And looking in your sidebar, it seems we follow many of the same blogs. Great taste in bloggers, then, too. 🙂