Thursday, 7:35 Pm
You, resting on the bed
There are tired wrinkles
In your yellow suit
And the day’s dust
On your face
I prop up my feet
Next to your arm
And wait
The walls of the room
Make a box of
The red-gold evening
Sun light
Your hand near my foot
Curls in and out
An evening bird
Lights on the ledge
Outside our window
Folding his wings
And we smile.
Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson | Year Posted 2007
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