By CARA MCMILLEN, November 14, 2021
your own little world—
no lights, no life
just you, boxed in
Is it cold
or does the soil insulate your home?
Do the bouquets above sing you sonnets
or is it quiet?
Is it comfortable
or is the lingering smell bothersome?
maybe you’ve grown accustomed to it—
and it now smells like home
maybe you’re somewhere else
perhaps in the sky?
Are you watching me kneel at your stone
or could you be below?
Was there a side of you I never knew?
I hope you can show me someday—
and maybe give me a tour
I’d love to see what life is like
in your own little world
But, for now—
from my point of view,
there are no lights, no life
just you, boxed in