Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Open window

The afternoon
Sleeps like a lazy dog
By my window
Hiding from the sun
And while in the shade,
You remain a beautiful ghost
I sound like a stone unturned.
Mumbling to myself beneath the surface
Becoming an island
Drifting like a tale
Away from your stories
Over evenings stretched out into
Secret promises of the rain
Where doused, we make our way
Out of clothes, and
Into words
Fleeting like deadwood
Above conversations of smoke
That fly out of the window
I forgot to close.