Pretty eyes like children’s feet. Hankering after their parents for a special treat. And I at work in my uniform. Reading over an occasional worm.
With a partner to my poetry discuss. Over treks to the city on the bus. And take to friends in their room. Ten bucks to use the broom. And then back home to my cottage state. An apartment at a humbled rate. Of rent and sustenance for savor. Far from having to borrow or ask a favor. Closer to sharing the inside. Closer to baring the heart alive.
It is for a timid sum I have been at this stead. With many a page coming out to be read. By friends and family enkind. These things from left field that weigh on my mind.
Personal Writings 