Your Fingertips (Leger)
The ghosts tell me
That you come here after dark
Searching for the lost children in yourself
You skip down a pathway
That leads to a slanted home
It's sketched along the wise branches
And clinging leaves

You don't see your reflection in the window
The roof is frowning
The story your mind tells
Makes your cheeks soft with tears
The wind's hand grips the door knob
Opens without proper invitation

You walk on in its dream cloud
The smell of coffee conversations
And a new deck of cards face down like a fold
A mother and her children
By a table lamp's flame
The youngest plays tricks on the wall
He has the confidence of a traveling magician

The scene looks familar
Like acting out a home movie
But something's off
Your right eye twitches
In anxious denial
The father rips into doomed flesh
And drinks the blood of the farm

The lungs of the home breathe in and out
You ask if this is your dream or theirs
The mother looks up and smiles
Wrinkles make her look more beautiful
In experience than she would think
She talks out a blood soaked cloth
Wraps it around your left hand
A weakness overthrows you

You fall to your bare knees
The flame is suffering
The children are gone
The wood is rotting
A small crooked tree reaches for a savior
Ripping off the bark
Undressing together
Naked under the strange sky

You rest your wounded body
In front of the roots of God
Turning you see your mother
Are she disappears
Like dust falling in faint light
The ghosts tell you of her kindness
Feeling guilty living in this world
Without a heartbeat
I figure you're somewhere further away now
I'm waiting for dreaming to become a journey
Even to find your fingertips