Thursday, May 17, 2012

Suburban back yard

I don't know you anymore
He shouted
His glasses likely flew off his
Face

It was one of those plaintive cries
That only men, only, choke out
With the dissolution of their
Desolation

There was a reply
It was low bass

The wind struck then
Rattling the apricot
Leaves

Nothing more could be
Heard

No comments:

Post a Comment