Groovy
Just following mind-grooves,
hunting the smell of vinyl
and laminated covers,
no music available
only an inaudible sense
of myself
whistling aimlessly
through collections -
recollections,
the reissued
fade-outs of the faded.
Nothing too much to bear
between ear to ear,
only the well-worn, well scratched,
revolutions of the heart - its pulse
a rhythmic clicking of dry fingers
to the beat
of long muted tunes.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
