Blue Airplanes

Tonight is the night that blue light hit my grandparents' hutch. It's quiet and I feel prickly. The cold linoleum is my home, the dolls my audience to my journey. They're immortal, here before me, here after me. The blue and white china hold the answers to my questions, but they smile knowingly and remain silent. The hidden doors are not mine, and I do not enter them. The maps are located at the bottom, with airplanes and forests that collect dust, I loved and cherished them, now they lay forgotten at the bottom of my grandparents' hutch in the blue light.