Tattletail

The sun, that shameless gossip,
Spots us as it moves across the rooftops
Not far from the Isle de Cite. Through
Our window, it illuminates a little pile
Of clothes built on the floor beside
The bed. I'm on my elbows, looking out,
While J sleeps peacefully beside me.
There's a man across the street, who's
Learned our story from the sun.
So Parisian, he's discreet. A little
Smile warms his face before he
Turns away.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 71 times
Written on 2017-10-04 at 07:25

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text