seizing sestinas with your bare hands
Taking fistfulls of firefall to the boneyard
Hopping infinite freight train at dusk
It's like, haven't we met somewhere before
It's like, how come the morning is green
It's like, weeding the intricate garden
But I wasn't standing at the corner
And I wasn't dreaming of your hand
I wasn't following your foot prints
I wasn't missing you at all
and watched the moon trek west
I was opening my locker
and hearing the echoes of the hall.
No comments:
Post a Comment