Eggshells

Little eyes stare eagerly out the window Cheering on for their favourite raindrop, Patiently waiting to go home. But not this little girl. She is waiting patiently For the time she will go home And won't be greeted by shouting, For the time where war will finally leave her living room, Leaving behind its casualties. She dreams of mornings where voices will only rise to sing, Where the walls won't flinch with every argument When the term walking on eggshells won’t feel so familiar. She wishes for the day when the guest who slams doors and burns bright red Will gather its things and leave, Taking with them the broken glasses and shattered dreams.