there are rainbows at 4am, created by <br />an electric outlet and water <br />from the bathtub someone left <br />unattended or purposely misused- <br /> <br />it makes paths through the house <br />tiny rivers leading into <br />the living room where they <br />collect in one giant puddle <br />that seeps now into <br />the carpet and kitchen tile <br />where we used to huddle beneath <br />the table during summer storms <br />that never stayed as long as <br />we would of liked them to. <br /> <br />if I look into the mirror <br />I’ll become lost in the translation of nostalgia- <br />more ghost like until time and <br />the preconceived notions of me <br />disperse into the atmosphere- <br />that surrounds the fireplace <br />that hasn’t been lit in 15 years- <br />we should have sealed the chimney off, <br />every December is allows the house <br />to be filled with wind and ash; <br />the remnants of life when it once <br />dwelt within this sanctuary- and <br />if you walk these halls you’ll hear <br />laughter from a parallel universe and <br />if you venture up there- <br />the attic will tell you: <br />life used to live here.<br /><br />Amberlee Carter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rainbows-at-4am/
