A Poem Almost About You

The floor’s stricken with scuff marks,
graven as a cirrus sky.
Not a sound comes to me.
I miss the thunder.
I’m waiting for you,
or the words for you.
I miss the lightening.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Related

Leave a Reply Cancel reply