Heading Home by Ron Ray

Bitter-boned, I break and crumble to dust
My pockets full of keys to places that no longer exist
An oystershell ashtray full of butts and ashes beside me
Testify to dreams of green hedges and white picket fences

A tapping on the door, a rapping on the wall
Ghosts always like this hour just before dawn
A bird screeches and I wake again to the stinging day
And shufflestep towards home from a thousand worlds away

Ron Ray is a self-taught writer and visual artist living in Rockford, IL, who has lived with major depression for most of his fifty-five years. His work has been published in several magazines, and he has self-published three volumes of poetry through Lulu Press. Reach Ron online at http://ronraylit.wordpress.com and http://bark.deviantart.com.

Share Some Light

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s