there is no one
home.
you can see
that by darkness.
the bushes
overgrown.
the tilted
fence, a broken
window
with a bird
on the other
side.
newspapers
litter the yard.
unopened mail
of no
importance.
fallen
to the wayside.
i see the one
i wrote to you
wet and lying
between
the roses,
wilted
and brown.
home.
you can see
that by darkness.
the bushes
overgrown.
the tilted
fence, a broken
window
with a bird
on the other
side.
newspapers
litter the yard.
unopened mail
of no
importance.
fallen
to the wayside.
i see the one
i wrote to you
wet and lying
between
the roses,
wilted
and brown.
1 comment:
come closer, and you can hear the rattling of an empty brown bottle.
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