Vincent

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Za's Stair

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I don't have the right
Because I have lost the sight
The painted pictures still repose
In fading colors and in rows
Along banks of broken windows

The sea salt fills the rooms
Which shine at night like wombs
Each precious heirloom kept
As daring nettle crept
Around the spot she leapt that day
Beside our loving home

As workmen take the very tires
In my room I did conspire
A way to keep it all as new
If only in my mind

Now I don't have the right
Because I have lost the sight
Even castles built upon tall dreams
Must soon be fed by flowing streams
Lest walls and hope come tumbling down
Like bones tossed to the ground

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