I can’t stand the thought of
sitting on a street corner,
writing on the curb
with white chalk in the rain
Outlining puddles
in runoff contaminants,
bleeding into the asphalt,
following cracks and crevices
of the last poem I wrote
in permanent ink,
when the sun danced
across her smile
and my words
brought blue skies
to the pages of
my heart’s desire
I hate chalk…..
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
I can’t stand the thought of
sitting on a street corner,
writing on the curb
with white chalk in the rain
Outlining puddles
in runoff contaminants,
bleeding into the asphalt,
following cracks and crevices
of the last poem I wrote
in permanent ink,
when the sun danced
across her smile
and my words
brought blue skies
to the pages of
my heart’s desire
I hate chalk…..
