Summer went by
She left with bliss in her eyes
Another victim of god's games
Her face changes but her brain remains the same.
Infantile in it's naivety, affected? Possibly. Perhaps.
Maybe she just doesn't want to see,
To tip toe and to peek over the fence, tip the scales against her, create an imbalance.
Maybe she's sick and she wants an audience.
Or she's been burned and she needs some variance.
Boots instead of sneakers, field instead of bleachers, studio instead of museum, tea instead of - you get it.
She needs change. The year is new.
The moon is full.
Her heart is empty.
And it's all so wonderful.
YOU ARE READING
Negative Space
PoetryA collection of short poems created for a beginners poetry class.
