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The sun knocks on my doorwayhe awakens my mid day slumber.
He too awoke late this fall morning.
The air is crisp and sharp, with a spring smell.
At last is the end of a season.
End of a year.
The second knock, this time on the door.
It echoes my room.
It calls to me to surrender my slumber.
On this quiet fall day, all is quiet,
except the plane flying above me.
The sun blinks between the overcast clouds.
It peeks into my window.
It watches as I write and leaves soon he gets bored.
There is no third knock on my door.
The sun has given up.
He lets me sigh; he knows that I am aware of nothing.
It is just the fall breeze whispering to my ear.
And I like all the gossip I hear.
Poetry by grey
Read 357 times
Written on 2008-03-10 at 01:18
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