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by gbhida Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #1397935
a short poem
The trees weep,
From a dreamlike state of insomnia,
The surreal fall morning.
Everything’s dead or dying,
Like the embers of a campfire.
The cold air of my apartment,
[we try to save money]
Dances on my face,
Awakening my cold receptors.
The muted roar of the water heater,
Awakens my ears.
The slimy egg noodles,
Slithering their way down my throat.
And I see emptiness
Replace what was once there
In my life.
Like a child waiting
For a Christmas,
That has since passed him by.
© Copyright 2008 gbhida (gbhida at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1397935-the-trees-weep