Saturday, March 26, 2016

Awake Before Birds

A poem should start out full of hope
and end wisely.

The room is dark but glass everywhere.
Look out to rain and green and grey shine.

My friends are sleeping.
Things are not like before.

I try not to hate my sisters.
How does this matter at all.

Flowers bursting out of the earth
from the limbs of trees.

There is nothing else to want.
Nothing else to need.  A book.

No comments:

Post a Comment