Picasso

I have picasso's vision in this place we call home a whirlwind of causual dance turns to a hurricane of sight sound and mostly touch, time is frozen but we barrel on tossing and turning in our once-dance-now-storm and finding another, more fitting place to call our own because this home is like picasso's sight, close in and find that nothing's out of place at all and everything is just right...right up until that ghost comes floating by and you start spinning and falling and spinning slows to rolling and your a top that's lost it's momentum rolling over the once-smooth-now-cracked sidewalk cement dodging skid marks and roadkill on the street finding whats different out there is only a reflection of what matches inside your own mind. will you come stumbling back? if you do i swear i'll wrap you up so tight you'll barely be able to breathe so safe and sound untill i pull your string and send you spinning into a whirlwind tossing up paper scraps and leaves untill i join in and our hurricane stops time and in this picture frame...we find Picasso's sight...and everything is just right...