deepundergroundpoetry.com

Boats

 
 
Your secret is on the dresser, trapped
between pages of your favourite book.
Your secret is not a secret.
 
The wooden echappes
didn't happen but I could imagine
the noise, just by looking at them.
 
I leaned near the water, on elbows
and the boats tilted further up
with masts askew; a still joust.
 
Dull, wet sand clumped under-toe:
I carried my shoes on the warm road,
soles pointing backward to a dome of sun.
 
You eat the cheesecake with a spork
while my fingers manage the same.
You have a secret, and I have ours.
Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published | Edited 5th Mar 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 7 reading list entries 2
comments 13 reads 799
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 10:44am by Gahddess_Worship
SPEAKEASY
Today 10:34am by Anne-Ri999
COMPETITIONS
Today 10:20am by Ljdynamic
POETRY
Today 8:57am by Abracadabra
SPEAKEASY
Today 8:35am by Too_hot69
COMPETITIONS
Today 7:11am by Controversity