You are the sunrise
that illuminates the twisted roads ahead.
The photocopier
that seems to do what you didn’t want it to.
The branch
that sways precariously in the wind.
The clock
that stops, starts, stops, starts.
The froth
that dangles a little too far over the side of my cup.
The peach
that contains a solid stone under the façade.
The book
that always ends with unanswered questions.
The confetti
that looks glorious but doesn't stay for long.
The nosebleed
that stains my pillow at night.
The boomerang
that flew off in the distance, yet to return.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
You are the sunrise
that illuminates the twisted roads ahead.
The photocopier
that seems to do what you didn’t want it to.
The branch
that sways precariously in the wind.
The clock
that stops, starts, stops, starts.
The froth
that dangles a little too far over the side of my cup.
The peach
that contains a solid stone under the façade.
The book
that always ends with unanswered questions.
The confetti
that looks glorious but doesn't stay for long.
The nosebleed
that stains my pillow at night.
The boomerang
that flew off in the distance, yet to return.
Written: October 2011.
Explanation: Second poem written for university. A metaphor poem about a friend of mine, which turned out to be far more negative than originally planned.
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