#25
today is opposite day. at least in some circles.
and so, a little poem from another time:
On the cusp of night
no one is out - not me or you
across from me
there, in the bottom-falling-out chair.
There are no stares, not even
those you give your book;
the silence falling easily
around our non-existence.
There is no pillow round which
wrap my feet; I haven't
angled them away from you.
No voices down the street, no
tires pass,
no eyes - not mine - have gotten weary,
or see a cat glide through
the pink and green outside the balcony.
And I? I don't sit here within my chair,
refusing not to shiver in the chilled air.
No shadows mark the scene, for
far beyond the ivy there
is not a sky of covered stars, draped
blue and black.
The reason I can't hear you, nor you me,
is simple - we don't sit here.
There is no door, no chair, no light, no balcony.
No one stays to witness nighttime
pass.
