the magic world

the magic world

when we used to live in the magic world
and around was peace the floor creaked
an attic fan to give breezes as we curled
a time without cease or of havoc wreaked
shadows wreathed walls in moon’s light
branches and leaves adrift upon a screen
further up the hall came sounds of night
when those bereaved were still to be seen
i open the front door a room almost bare
the swinging door leads into the kitchen
and who will i look for who will be there
a television watcher needs no permission
will a mother mark her book with a finger
dad’s lighter sparks cigarette smoke lingers