Textures #54

A LOVE LESS ORDINARY

where she goes is always a mystery

postcards and portraits of missed christmas trees

one day she’ll tell you why

she left that poem on your window sill

’cause it’s not easy to hold

a love that rushed in so unexpectedly

she wrapped it around her waist

like silk oh so carefully

and wandered the empty streets

looking for you, or so she said to me

perhaps there’s a room

in a house somewhere up a hill

where she plays the piano

or the violin

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s