Click Thee Times

A Poem by Ronda

Being homesick

Those ruby slippers
whisper to me
"Touch me,
Stroke me,
Want me..."

Fingers and nails trace them;
every beautifully hand crafted
sequin perfectly placed,
needle blooded fingers,
by a caring person a century ago

Then the wind commands
blonde hair in a swirl and

to the direction of my heart;
open roads, large mountains

and Tombstone

Dark ominous lands race to this place,
hanging in the sky

and heavy with rain,
to tell me of things to come;
A prophet in a time full of non believers

The slippers, they glow
peering through me;
as a strobe light at a

Las Vegas club at closing
that I paid $50 to attend

I place them on my feet
pink painted toes

and child like feet
mold into them

and feel the magic

*click*
*click*
*click*

Take me home
There is no place like home