#mataphor

The room is warm and I feel like sleeping.

Golden Light, from the window, streaming.

There children of mine lie three,

Upon my lap for I to see.

Heads lolling against mine breasts,

As they snore, dog ears dog teeth.

I stroke their fur, straw colored, my dears.

Yes they're mine despite dog teeth dog ears.

And yet, they may grow to bloodhounds oh I weep.

And yet, even if they bite mine love runs stiller deep.

Hush-a-bye babes mama loves you so,

The most selfish love, high and lo.

Warm room, golden for now,

FIRST METAPHOR IDEA

Matter absence, and the way in which the day's last sun-rays falls on telephone wires and power lines. Razor-sharp contours of low rooftops against the twilight sky, as if they were scenes carved in black paper.