it's early yet
as my shoes crunch through crackling leaves
the morning air crisply fills my lungs
with its whiffs of freshly-baked goods
while the sun plays hide-and-seek
peeking out from behind a confusion of cloud
the sun shining gently
and everything sparkling in response
-
the sun shines brightly cutting through the haze into tight corners of the post-atomic daze the concrete alley floor, with its broken flow...
-
for fourteen years i wished my father dead at the age of eighteen i buried him it would take another six years to be rid of his physica...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.