Camino Embarcadero

Tiny demitasse cups, collected from the parlor where the
walls crumble beneath
 excessive weight of memories
 too heavy to carry
-for too long

Dusty shelves,  a shelter
 for the ones willing to linger believing, or hoping to attach themselves like a cobweb
 on the coat tail  of a dreamer

Old  wooden rocker sways independent
of the  earths rotation
A miniature  setting  to which
 I can watch life's  natural
decay an introspect into the insanity of  what could be
what is, or the mere fascination
of what isn't
A sidestep from the  otherwise  mundane moments of sanity

Oh yes, demitasse cups  bits
of hemp secure each cup
to the tassels of my boho skirt
 I must also save a few to hang
 from my graying dread locks.