The instinct

Sunday afternoon, alone, looking pretty.

Outside, the battle ground, loose ends, a pity

to say with a smile, the game, the piles

how many ways could you leave me?

The front yard, the acre, colliding. 

Enraptured atop the garage, aloof and aligning.

The tree, the lighting. With friends, deciding

the way we can't know if we're dying.

You're dangling off of the reason

you found a way to smile 

The lighter fluid, the season

suffering pieces you'd leave scattered

smoke rolling off the feeling

In the mirror, the frame keeps changing.

The wind, the window, complaining

for more time, and your mother's face

yellow sweater, can't make up your mind

no time to decide if it's wasted.

Your eye brows, outlined, surprised me

symmetric, the windows combining

let the story go on, and the end of the song

shuffled your thoughts, and moved your body

towards eternal instinct

Reviews

[ROXANE DORSEY]

love this piece. very nice and thanks for sharing your talents.