I compose a dream
suddenly contradictory
to what I hoped
it would be.
I stop the play
oblivious now to
whatever disturbing thing undeveloped there.
My barefeet touch the cold floor
I walk to the front door and stare
waiting to hear footsteps on the other side.
Maybe they won't come
I'm not even sure who's footsteps I'm waiting for
but I think they're mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment