delicate yellow softness
-------the hidden reality
--------------of love
we poke fingers in our little pockets
to see if they are there
what kind of world do we live in?
sometimes it is the cold hard ice
of frozen fists fighting for
an inch of self in a loud brassy bar
sometimes it is the gentle snowfall
of open hands giving
a pound of self in a neighbourhood pub
the moon shines brightly in a synthetic backdrop
and his hands are empty
but in our hearts we see them
No comments:
Post a Comment