river of faces
none like each other, nor mine
they are family
in tiny cloisters
shutting out the world around
words, voices, nothing
intentions are clear
he stumbles over thick words
she secretly hopes
always in a rush
sublime life passes her by
was it all worth it?
Patois seduction
I eaves-drop: whispers, glances
I wish I spoke French
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment