the shadow that the floorboard casts
across my feet.
yesterday's coffee stirs
in the breeze sneaking under
cracks in window
leave broken faces staring into the sun
cold
my hands have no age
i dont recognize them
no wrinkle forms a memory
no scars are a thought
my dreams have transpired
they have become more reality than not
a neighbors lawnmower purrs
the grass is already asleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment