below stairs
is no more
no little snicker
when the ladle
glides into the soup
no moth-like
flit of eyes
behind the chairs
when the napkin
drifts to the carpet
gloves have gone
the way of ticking clocks
below stairs
is no more
no little snicker
when the ladle
glides into the soup
no moth-like
flit of eyes
behind the chairs
when the napkin
drifts to the carpet
gloves have gone
the way of ticking clocks