Alice In The Afternoon Poem by Alan Gilbert

Alice in the morning
Was a foil for the sunrise,
Her eyes were filled with splinters
Of another sleepers dream.
She looks down on a city
And is tired of her future,
Knowing she is drowning
In the overwhelming stream.

Alice in the afternoon
Found wrinkles in a mirror,
She brushed her hair with tortoiseshell
And felt the sun go down.
Sometime in the evening
She started into cleaning,
With dusters she kept tearing
From her virgin wedding gown.

Alice in her rocking chair
Winnowing her memories,
She's finding pain and gemstones
In grains that she has panned.
Somewhere in the long age
A moments playing over,
Then fading with the music
Alice reached to take his hand.


Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2011.