Crop Circles
My bed is Kansas
Endless, barren windswept plains
Of empty sheets
Stretching to a distant horizon
It could be the flats of Nebraska
On a starless night
Lonely
Bleak
So far, I can’t reach
And I’m storm chasing
Longing for a wild tumbleweed
to get swept up alongside my fence
Messing up my pristine cotton fields
with a bit of dirty rough stubble
Brushed against my rosy cheeks
I want to grab a hold, of something unruly under my pillows
While making satin crop circles
At 3 am
© Cornelia Mattioli aka Flying Angel 2015
Copyright © Cornelia Mattioli | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment