Giving Up
Wind in the trees,
I will him to look at me like that first night,
The artist surveys his work.
A crow calls in the distance
I wonder if his kisses taste the same,
The artist tells me his plans for his current work in progress.
Cars rumble along the highway,
I want to say I wish you had chosen me,
The artist asks my opinion of the sculpture.
The air smells of rain,
I smile and want to ask what she has that I don't have
He goes to get another tool.
The sun is hidden by a cloud
My hands shake and I say goodbye,
The artist resumes his work.
Copyright © Rose Losey | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment