Metaphor

It was meant to be an easier challenge

in the empty hour of evening. Noticing,

how easily you built the house

of cards, over the pale gray rug, not once,

nor twice, but three different times – your fingers used

to the unusual discipline of collapse and resurrection.

I tried, as well, this task –over

and over again, to build, from scratch,

a home. But failed; no progress past

the foundation, no room for a stepping stone.