Friday, July 31, 2009

A Sword Stuck In The Stone

I find you under my fingernails
in the deep pockets of my jeans
in my hair running my hand over it
on my shirt's crumpled collar seam

I wait for you at the bottom
of a coffee cup or maybe two
a new pack of cigarettes is hope
and the last I smoke is rue

your absence is the present moon
your evidence my tired, silent voice
I hear you in the melody of rain
disdain's the ache of love's choice

a photo frame sits on a mantel
dismantled the owner stares long
a cold in the room has the tune
of the sword in the stone's lovesong

No comments:

other people waiting

we're not strangers anymore