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Sunday, December 23, 2007

Sweet Memory

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The air shifts
when the door opens
creeping down the hallway
on the jangle of your keys,
on the creaking of the stairs
under the weight
      of your displeasure.
It moves around me
tentative, seeking
its grip coiling
around my throat
until air is just
a sweet memory.

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Old Comments

  • That’s a nice poem. I like it’s tittle and also like to read whole writing. I will obviously bookmark your page. Thanks for precious post.

    Posted by blizzerhall  on  07/12  at  07:23 AM
  • Page 1 of 1 pages

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