An old poem that I wrote in college......I found it when I googled myself....(don't tell anyone)

A Fabric Fairytale

Grown in a knitted neighborhood,
Sewn with button eyes
that pry down winding roads.
Spotlights that burn holes
into bare rooms.
And silently open closed doors.

A House white and clean,
Quiet to the those,
with ears that know.
A broken fence with vines thick,
weaving through panels,
And locks with brass handles,

Keys misplaced through years of clutter.
Closed shutters cover the whispers
floating across weeping branches,
Swaying the knotted rope,
attached to an empty wooden swing.

Her chin down and sweater zipped,
Chapped hands that hide inside
torn pockets filled with stars,
That fall to piles in the sky.

Toes that trip over dirty laces,
Squeaky sneakers dragging
through four years of endless halls,
Tracing cracked walls and lockers of lies,
masking faces that stare through plastic eyes.

Bated mouths,
reciting fairytales with missing pages,
Stories that follow her home,
Hanging by a thread,
With every step,
And every breath…

A word of ragged ending.
Cahla Veach-Dixon
10/2/04