Me and the Softskins

My great mouth is ever yawning
Dew drips down at a new day's dawning
My skin is cracked, breached and old
Only a few dare to conquer my threshold.

Down my throat they boldly walk
Echoes vibrate as the softskins talk
Tickling my gullet, touching my skin
Will they get out now they've gone in?

Past waterfalls and streams
the blood that flows in me
On the softskins go, deeper and deeper
Down the pathways, steeper and steeper.

Finally they meet my heart
The beat reverberates in the dark
My heart it sparkles with crystals of glass
And boulders below in an unmoving mass.

Sarah Atkinson