Where The Brick Meets The Paint

 Resting

my exhausted
body
down on
the mattress
that melts with
the floor. 
Blonde dyed
hair blankets
the cold
cotton
pillow. 
Silence except
for the passing
of the cows
in the pasture 
sitting
outside
my window. 
Placing my
hand on 
the cold
wall 
between
the brick 
and where
the paint meet. 
Resting it
on the border
unable to 
make a choice
the gentle
whispers of
the cows
to their calves
calms me.
Their braying
reminds me 
of love
and in all
my struggles
they carry
me to dreamland.