Thursday, August 19, 2010

the breezes have been coming

pictures of poppies
the alone feeling
of being on the floor
of a dark night
in the middle of
the sidewalk
finger figures in
gravel dirt
of wrinkles on
knuckles as you
of an exhale
of eyelashes
looking up
of a lip being bit
like shutting a
screen door
of the vcr light
in the middle of
the night
a glass of water
left for days
the silent choice
of each's numbness
a hanky tucked
in pocket
cheeks that rest
lightly in small
like sandalwood
and remembered
pillows and a teddy
and a song by
george harrison
and a book sent in
the mail by dad
of tomato soup and
the coming of autumn
the breezes have
been coming

1 comment:

I'm Tom said...

This is so good! Gah!