Candy Apple Red

itchy feeling between

shoulder blades

move restlessly from song to song

nothing feels right this morning

close my eyes

seeking inner truth

only find stark white room

too bright

too sterile

as if an autoclave

blasted it clean of comfort

only spot of color

a small red ball

rolling slowly across

immaculate white tiles




like a candied apple




tight into self

study it for a moment

before the symbolism

clicks into place

laugh at myself

that it took so long

to recognize

my own heart


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved



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