Paper Cup

Paper Cup

Looking into clocks

out of frustration,

drinking beer

from a wine glass,

torture;

from the bottom

of a paper cup.

 

The cloudy reflection

from every other windshield,

walking faster

then traffic,

life speeds along.

 

And in the rite moments,

suspension;

a gift

from the hour glass,

always passing

the sand goes by.

 

A little extra,

just above the knee,

and it is what

has been done,

made in a mold

unlike other “men,”

drifting down

with the smoke

of a fine cigarette.

 

And that’s when you realize

you are not alone.

Reviews

[Georgiakevin]

Too often feeling alone is an overwhelming feeling and the joy once in awhile when someone kindly offers you their hand to help you see that you are not alone.Your poem is a poem that offers hope.