Afraid

Mother,
your frozen milk
thickens my veins these days
Father,
your voice does the same
small broken islands of each
caress my blood,
brush it with love and
call it home from the playground
for supper
My blood rejoices and
too heavy now
brakes into pieces the doll house chair
Dad!
Mom!!
seated on the floor
I accept my plate and the glass
your table and your chairs
grow taller and taller
my blood smiles
walks its path slower
to be able to grasp as much as possible of
the details of your sight
barely flows anymore
only ticking then
it stops
as I desperately desire to stand still
...maybe this will help!...