a little imagination

i COULD dream a world
one that knows UNITY
no bombs BURST
the only steady THRUM
the beat of your heart
next to mine

Georg’ann

Boy’s room an expanse
of wood floor covered
in stacks of soccer cards,
Piles shift daily, his pleasure
to organize but never TRADE.
Three solid white monkeys,
each holding a TORCH,
light the long L-shaped hall.
Under an ocean view, drift
to sleep. THRUM of crickets
in concert with the clock.

Heather