Rich

24 Jan

The phone call


The Phone Call


Divided we fall


Divided we fall

Cobblestone Streets:

My feet
walk down these
cobblestone streets.
The nights are black
And the days are dark,
but a little liquor…
in your flask,
fans the flames,
time and again.
And I feel
a little rhythm,
in my feet,
so I keep on…
walking down these
cobblestone streets,
alone.

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2 Responses to “Rich”

  1. theothergardener January 24, 2010 at 7:31 pm #

    A poem with a good walking rhythm.
    ToG

  2. sonny January 24, 2010 at 1:21 pm #

    true

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