In the Space of an Hour

Maybe love can turn off, like a light,
At an unforeseen time. The mind
Stops feasting on itself. A breeze
Comes through an open window,
Blowing off the fever dream, and
Life assumes a pleasant dullness...
Then her face appears again,
Her voice is heard. The air turns
Still, the window having fallen
Shut. The mind resumes its
Fatal chewing, and the light
Turns on.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2015-02-13 at 18:11

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