Saturday, February 19, 2011

Poem 50 of 365

Room

Slender spaces of comfort
holds me too close to the image I am
impatient time comes no closer
and I am stuck by myself again, and again
and again.

Footsteps of what used to be mercy
Crying over the puddles of what
Some already know
With a big smile of the southern way I differ
I realize I can only hold what is mine in my hand
And this becomes the uplift of what I need to understand.

Up in my room, laughter comforts me
Up in my room, I share my space with me and my own
Up in my room, I am bitter

at last I see impression of this room
ALONE.

No comments:

Post a Comment