less of you is here this morning
having left so much
in dreams, at the table of sleep.
you rise and dress
go out into the rain, let
the water come and go like soft
kisses against your weary cheek.
it's nice to be nowhere
in a hurry, to linger with
coffee through a window
on the barren street.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment