Dust Bunnies

Trepid, I came to see a

Dusk-drawn, dusty lane:

Watched roaches moor

On creaking gate.

Slanted house veered

To mirror-view.

Shut, boarded doors

Neared my rearing hood.

Croaking crows leapt

To fly, gas turned

Down, around old

Haunts and nooks.

A yawning hallway

Spiraled through. This

Calm abode, where once

I flew: floating soap on

Purple bubble brooms.

An orange sky

Casts yellow, here,

In glass-cased closet,

Which, secret, bears:

My boyish heart,

That beats anew, in

Dust-bunnied toys and

Cobwebbed rooms.