Pushing Daisies

This house
and the memories it holds...

macabre music plays
upon the floorboards
steps taken
bemoan the weight

of what is lost.

Life once lush
quickly slips out
upon the ghost

of love

(or is it hate).

Dead to the waking
even I know
the meadow speaks

(calls my name)

leads me away
in mournful dance,
I wave my arms

sink below the surface,
maybe these little deaths

will push the daisies forth
for you to
pluck the petals...

(he loves me, he loves me not)

BAN