Ebbie

She wonders if she's right, to cry for the sea, in sought after light, but what is she doing, making chocolate Maxima, worrying about freedom, mulling over wine, cold in the season, thinking she'd be fine, vodka leads to ruin, watching clouds her reason, her eyes frozen prisms, but who brings the fire, to these walls like treacle, when down the line, the kids will arrive, regular as the heating, lilac as the night, their faces bright, to sooth her unease their shouting and fighting, time she can't leave.