Air
I like when the sun is almost down after a hot day
and the soft air fills up with mauve
We have never talked of breezes
in almost 40 years of marriage
It's not that we had other things to do
but these were not valuable enough
Why do you think that is?
Who do you think would have these conversations
About the movement or stillness of air?
Maybe the Prince of Stasis, or the people
Who have run out of everything
Or have run out of nothing
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.