Sunday Afternoon

Cigarettes in the drizzle    
baggage under the eyelids,    
there are no fools to find    
on the dark side of the the stage.    
Colorless Sundays are appraoching,    
and the jazz music is stomping    
on the carnations again.    
The light switch isn´t working    
and the alarm clock is on rerun.    
   
The things on my mind,    
sex, sex, love, sex    
but mostly love.    
If I could only put my arms    
around your beautiful waist    
and take my creative frustrations    
out on you.    
   
I miss you, I love you,    
I care too much to say good-bye.    
You are the only thing    
worth coming back to    
in a recurring dream.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing poem. I like the journey you took me with your words. Sometime sweet dreams can come true. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote