Reflection

Reflection

With fine inspiration,

I sip coffee every morning,

looking for the words

that play tricks

on my mind.

 

Otherwise;

cold and cloudy,

muddled in the middle,

an everyday beginning

for someone

so strange.

 

And from the paint

on my toes,

looking past

colored perfection,

I dream of

days gone by.

 

Pulling on the corners

of my pillow case.

 

Daydreams of

beer over ice,

good sunglasses

and a skirt

that fits,

just rite.

 

I have reconciled

a bitter past,

and see in

precious memories,

the moments of yesterday.

 

Only to again,

be called home.

Reviews

[M O R P H I N E]

I enjoyed reading this. It was very soothing and it's such a fine write.

[�Alexa�]

Great job. I'll be reading more of your work, whenever the chance comes!

[Emily B]

awwwww, this is nice . . . quiet moments, left alone to our own dusty thoughts, somewhere in the middle of where we ought to be . . . you said it all . . .

perfectly

[Poeticpiers]

a train of thought, a personal soliloquy.
Intriguingly presented in poetic prose
Which leaves me wondering