a girls face whitly lit
the hum of air conditioning
thinking of what to next write
one foot up rocking
the rotating wheel of the fan
concerns of flying alone
her finger nails grown again
the sound of them clicking off
when is it ever time for bed?
YOU ARE READING
Through Poetry
PoetryHere, I hope to experiment with different kinds of poetry, including some experiments of my own, in the hopes to create some ... well... poetry!
