Thump,
Thump,
Thump.
His feet thump down the stairs
and across the hall
and above me
where is he
is he listening?
YOU ARE READING
His Flowers, My Garden
PoetryThe flowers of the boy I once loved remain in my garden. MY garden. He's still here. Is this his way of getting back at me for treating him with nothing but respect? Will I grow to overcome the hardship of love, or will I fall even further into the...
Pg10
Thump,
Thump,
Thump.
His feet thump down the stairs
and across the hall
and above me
where is he
is he listening?
