in the corner
of an open
window
i see you.
hands holding
a cat.
your eyes
crying, your
blue season
in full
bloom. you're
waiting
for me.
for me to come
back. you
don't hear
me at the door
already there.
of an open
window
i see you.
hands holding
a cat.
your eyes
crying, your
blue season
in full
bloom. you're
waiting
for me.
for me to come
back. you
don't hear
me at the door
already there.
1 comment:
perhaps its just my imagination, but it seems your work has vastly improved recently...with age comes wisdom, and in your case, prose. the percentage of "good ones" seems to have risen. congratulations.
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