Slumber
The glass suspended above your bed
Blue and green, yellow and red
Hanging from a silver thread
The goldfish swims around its bowl
It looks but sees without a soul
As if it is mine to control
The televisions rarely on
Can’t tell me new things, can’t catch on
It’s seventeen minutes past the sun
The horizon black against the sky
Through your open window lies
Burnt by the embers slow to die
Stillness and a quietude
Now inherited from you
You left me here with nothing to do
posted by tzb at 2:10 am
1 Comments:
i really like the third and fourth stanzas, but some of the other rhymes seem forced. (if i'm being mean, tell me and i'll shut up. sometimes i give unwanted criticism without meaning to.)
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