Frank Penicaro Poet Ballad

Of Her

A CLEAN WINDOW


A TABLE


A CHAIR


I stare into the crowded street,

I sit in a crowded room.


when I stare into the fresh clean window

I can see what is reflected behind me.



the body her flesh has such an appeal to me

that its hold on my is so haunting.


I would suffer for her.


if i turned            if I stared

i am content


I have stolen her image and is now in my mind.



I didn't have to ask or say please





and days go by faster.



Frank Penicaro(c)copyright 2010

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