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mike-gullicksonPoems
I watch you sitting at the window of your 3rd floor apartment while I sit on a bench at the end of the park collecting the currency of poems. I have a cup out, yes, but I'm looking for spare words some inspiration from someone who has too much will share with me but it's a cold night those who pass by look away keep silent. So I look at you, your long brown hair rivered around your shoulders- how liquidly it moves when you turn your head I can see now, you're talking to someone in the room as if you wished they would keep quiet. You have a window to look out of this is what your life's about and I'm watching you living it.
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Field Work
I watch you sitting at the window of your 3rd floor apartment while I sit on a bench at the end of the park collecting the currency of poems. I have a cup out, yes, but I'm looking for spare words some inspiration from someone who has too much will share with me but it's a cold night those who pass by look away keep silent. So I look at you, your long brown hair rivered around your shoulders- how liquidly it moves when you turn your head I can see now, you're talking to someone in the room as if you wished they would keep quiet. You have a window to look out of this is what your life's about and I'm watching you living it.
Written by
mike-gullickson
Texas
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
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