The Music Box

[kieloid]

embered leaves
like rain of fire
falling on souls
remembering old flames

or the gentle taps
of drops
on windows
like fingers
looking for warmth

dragons
tired of anarchy
looking toward oases
looking to drown
in ocean after ocean after ocean

steam on cool windows
of heated bedrooms
broken rims of eyeglasses
left alone near yellowing photographs
inside cracked picture frames

sniffing
and wailing
in dark corners of stairs
waiting for angels to descend

how many miles of memories
how many twists and turns of truth
shall we walk again

when the treasure trove of tunes and overtones
opens her mouth

and sings anew?