Cradle

Cradle

by Kenniese S. Franklin

I sit in my rooms
Bird in a tree
Observing my belongings
The tree's leaves.

When I unlocked these doors
for the very first time,
I didn't realize I was making a promise
To let these rooms make good on their promise
To cradle me in their branches
Catch me when I'm spilling
Let them lay rest in my spirit.

I cling to these rooms
Baby to her mother
Remembering soon
I'll get older.

It's true, my house and me are leasing each other
but we know once it's over, this will still be forever.
We conceive of creations
We give birth together
We cradle ideas as they take form.

We cradle ideas as they sculpt themselves.
We cradle ideas and shed tears.