On the off chance that you can peruse my little sonnet discreetly
Maybe on a twilight evening
You will grasp my heart
That sounds perfect
On the off chance that you could go for a stroll along the stream
Let the breeze and the willows touch your face
Perhaps I'll watch from the opposite side
That sounds perfect, really
In the event that you could crease a paper crane on a blustery day
Pull up its back and set its wings against the window
Allow it to pay attention to the downpour for me
That sounds decent
Assuming that the distance is still distance
In any case, the strings of feeling are rigid and tight
In the event that I could wave at you from the edge of the mountain as may be obvious
That sounds perfect, really
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181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo2 days ago in Fiction
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