#5

There's chalk on my shoulder.
Mice skitter across the floor
And little birds tweet.
In the streets the birds and mice
Chitter, chatter, flitter about
With words thoughtless,
Feet flying and eyes darting here and there
For scraps and food.
And I walk clad in frock with hands in my pockets
And thoughts wordless.
Is it too much
To pull away the curtain
And look into the world?
The mice crawl under the doors,
The birds to the chimneys,
The air stands,
The frocked man stands,
Time stands.
Is it too much, is it really too much
To open a door and see a smile,
A warm hug and a sip of tea for a while?
Is it too much to open a door
To take my hands from my pockets and body from frock,
To enter smiling and quiet,
To hang the coat and sit?
The mice and birds talk too much.
The shoulder of the coat bears chalk.