"No strings attached,"he says, just like the dirty shoelaces he wears on his feet. They're never tied, simply jostling about as he walks ahead. I don't think he notices, but when mine are untied, just like his, he reminds me that they are. With a frown, he tells me, in that tired, sullen voice of his, "Tie your laces or you'll fall on your face." I don't think he knows, but I'm in the midst of falling, and his warning has come a bit too late.
YOU ARE READING
A Small Book of Poems
PoetryWhy waste your time looking through a judging mind, when you can bask in the warmth of a loving heart? The title should be description enough but I'll give a bit more detail here. This will be a Small Book of my feelings and thoughts and just things...
