Part
the old jokes
who lives in the past
hunts in every lonely night
the old notes
who were buried through piles
scatters and flies
music plays
from the strums of my guitar
eyes beside the window
all filled
by the wide and empty streets
To the character
who played a role in every chapter
when the pages turn
who will stay and go?
if the skies are not blue
will you walk with me
down the lane
with your umbrella?
YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters
PoetryA tear that couldn't drop from the eyes, A sound of a beating heart that couldn't speak. It was the messages that never reached anyone, nor entered someone's mind. 'Tis the letters they rest, in a book of poetry.
