Is Smiles
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What this is, is smiles
in outskirts of my mouth,
The sound of sleep, lazy house.
Tick-tock alarm somewhere.
Rain taps the window.
Awake early mornings;
Early bird,
not outside, but in.
What this is, is smiles
to sounds unknown, to snores and sighs
to people, semi-sleepwalk fruitlessly
with Tesla hair
cracks for eyes, faltering stumbles in the direction
of the Espresso Machine.
What this is, is smiles
Are small feet jump-thump;
high-pitched voices sing a tune
never heard, to a yellow clown
on a screen.
What this is, is smiles
deep inside. I had no idea
smiles could exist
inside my heart.
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
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