Fur bristles and sings, while
Water morphs blue to black and back again.
Of course, the train has to return
if there’s no bridge, and
At the same time, there’s no diving
At three feet deep.
The expensive soda remains undrunk, yet
At the edge of the world there is no one;
I have a bracelet on
The towels swing on the table
And the summer balcony’s open
But the winter air's turned on.
Life is hollow,
And I get a cold.
The rain plops on my paper,
Making watery spots.
I trace them and
Pretend they’re stars.
Pines foretell the future of the wild;
They tell me the world is blue, black and red.
The towels lay discarded on the ground,
Seagulls drink at the pool.
Their wings turn green from the chlorine.
Life is cold.
I know that temperatures plummet fast.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
