I'm back:)
Without the cold caress
Of a breeze
On a wet cheek,
Without the dry echo
Of silence
On a warm couch,
We couldn't kiss or laugh.
Without the tail-chasing cycle
Of clothes
In the washing machine,
Without the mounting pile
Of papers
In the deskside bin,
We couldn't train or invent things.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoetryPoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.
