Time misspent in wonderland
she sips on broken dreams
In weeds of woe and circumstance
life leaking from her seams
Time misspent in wonderland
in what-might-have-been galore
with a distant grin, she stirs her gin
cross-legged on the floor
Photos spread haphazardly
she slips into her past
she bathes in milky memories
and prays that it will last
Time misspent in Wonderland
tears running down her face
when now comes knocking at her door
to occupy her space
“What’cha doing mama?”
words lilting and refrained
that pierce the walls of wonderland
to bring her home again
bendingtheneedle 