Alice and the White Rabbit
These
dark corners we reside in.
I watch
a man drinking solitary,
Waiting
for his life to roll in.
He dreams
of a different time,
Passing pages
into a cage of fire.
His past
steps in sometimes
And he
piles up the evidence.
It’s a spiral
to an underworld,
A bear
trap underground.
He follows
the path of Alice
To dance
with the Rabbit sometimes.
It’s a
dressing up of the age,
One he
succumbs to in stages.
This wooden
board he taps upon,
Seeking to
shine in his wishes.
But he
knows his dream was stolen
By the one
who wants him to fail.
In the
shadows he is always there,
Tripping
him up, abusing him
For not
knowing, not seeing.
He ridicules
his “paranoid” ways,
Intruding
on his piece of life.
Alice
peeks out sometimes,
Inviting
him to take the leap
Of disbelief
and burrow down
Where the
White Rabbit holds on
To the
drip-drop of time.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, July 12, 2020
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