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August MAG
...and the flickering street lamp
.clicks.
and
.plinks.
overhead tonight
when the air is thick
of a summer day's
residue
when she walks with me
talking of us
(almost magical)
and when her hair brushes
my shoulder
she hardly hears the
chorus of crickets
...or the pizzicato of a
dank summer night's lamp
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This article has 2 comments.
S M Wells said...
on Jan. 8 2011 at 7:59 am
I like it! Of corse, I'm in an optimistic mood write now. So I'm more prone to be polight for once. But it IS, really good. A pitty I was the first to comment. For I don't want to give you a worped perseption of the tipical reaction to a good poem. As my opinoin is alwase clashing with others.
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