Somewhere in the pressed
Shirt, dress-shoed and neck-tied
to many clocks,
is a poet.
His reflection
Holds it's breath
Under the office chamomile.
His eyes coffee-mugged
Of all expression,
When finally the,
Look back from
The bottom of an empty cup.
Somewhere between the vice
Of desk and chair he survives,
Testing his pens on memos,
Ready
To take his clothes
Off.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 1:28pm on Nov 25, 2024 via server WEBX1.