6 lines, 9 beats per
I love it when the rooftops are white,
and blend into the stark winter skies.
It is possible to imagine
that in between them, there are no lines,
but only the blank winter canvas
promising to be filled in by Spring.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
No comments:
Post a Comment