Castle Over the Bridge

When I was small

I would crawl-

and hide under the kitchen table-

hide from anyone tall. 

I wish I could still do that. 

But I guess I am someone tall-

I sometimes think back to those days

when the table was a castle

-a sanctuary from the horrors of everyday.

If only I had one of those now. 

I guess I'd never come out. 

For this is everything I fear-

I've lost control

I feel weak in the knees-

a foil to solid wood 

and good hard craftsmanship-

so as of now 

I'm hiding in plain sight

crawling, bawling, 

without the protection of a fortress.

And what is a queen without her castle ?

A hostage. 

Dead. 

Or worse-

lost.