The light under the pantry door
Whispers from the soft cracks
Of the towel shoved below
For there are little eyes
That seek to find those
Hidden in plain sight.
White lies build a moat
Around that forbidden zone
And even if the invasion,
A sweet, welcomed distraction,
Made its way across the gap
Butterfly kisses are now an attack.
"Had I lived down here
I would have shut the door"
How strong the words wish
To slips through chapped lips
How it was just another sign
'No little eyes welcomed here.'
Object permanence is developed
Before the age of three.
How little brains get to feel safe
Is seeing that light and urging towards,
Not being afraid to open the door
Only to see no one there.
YOU ARE READING
Processing
PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
