in the cloudless,
powder-blue air,
found through
an open window,
lock or no lock,
the dream of reality
slaps like glass
or the reality of a dream.
If you need
a helpful hand
to turn the latch
to your own forgiveness
or the next day,
reach for my metallic hand
shaped like a key
or stevedore knot
or my palm-shaped heart.
7 comments:
e onde se encontra a verdadeira beleza de todas as coisas?
contrast ao meu post! bgd por dar smp um avista de olhos no meu blog
its a nice poem, love the palm-shaped heart. but i dont like the picture
The painting is by Edward Hopper. I like it because you can feel the loneliness of the subject but in the window there is blue sky, sun and hope.
What do u think of "Nothing's worse than warm tears" for the title of a poem?
I'd have to read the poem....to convince me or allude to something along those lines. For me, nothing is worse than non-salty tears (not being light) just means I am not human, same with blood, etc....we are a salty lot, you know.
lol, a salty lot are we...no i never did write the poem, just thought it was a horrible feeling to have my tears warm my eyes...
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