Sneaking,
Peeking,
Dreaming,
Not sleeping.
I glance
With a lingering gaze.
He isn't fazed.
His hand is steady,
Quick,
Neat.
What is he writing?
I'd like to peak.
I look away
...Until a feeling brings me back.
Cinnamon eyes,
Jaw gone slack,
Holy hell.
He's staring back.
YOU ARE READING
Rainfall in May
PoetryA growing collection of recent poems with varying styles and subjects. I apologize for any errors, as this was uploaded from my mobile device.
