deepundergroundpoetry.com

In the bowl by the door

When winters solitary winds
whip the last of autumns littered leaves  
from your feet
through the noise in slamming doors
don't take the rest from gazes
used to sleeping in a fingers crook  
their unsettled cries would keep me from rest
look past me etched against the night
when you sneak a look at maybes  
leave them in the hall  
don't let your feet muffle the music in the road  
while I march to the drum of the beaten path
Written by DystopianMelody
Published | Edited 28th Oct 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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