Aperture
the world looks around
for its windows,
occasioning to go halfway
in strange appeasement,
anticipating an announcement
of something waiting
in the wings.
embroidered with phrases
and pictures formed of words,
solidified, inaudible,
waiting to be born.
the tags on bright murals
celebrating lives passed on,
leaving their scent behind,
impenetrable but fathomable.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for commenting :)