l
When I talk a block of wood
comes out of my mouth.
Something whittles it down,
something slowly rocking.
It sits now in the square
overlooking a few benches,
a gentle. quiet reminder of
what I said.
ll
A few debate what the design says.
It speaks to some
and holds its tongue
for others.
lll
I sit on one of the benches,
positioned to the left
of what I said.
The sun reaches down
caressing the texture of it.
Traffic slows.
"It deserves more," I think.
lV
What I said has moved on.
Was it my comment, my reaching?
A light rain is falling on the square.
From the coffee shop where I sit
I notice the green impression
is still there.
V
I can't seem to remember
if I could have carried it.
I conclude it was enough
that what I said
stood alone for a while,
outside my
somewhat restless,
lighter, blue, self.
2 comments:
I love it. I love "positioned to the left / of what I said." I love the moving on, the green impression, and the blue self. I love the progression of the whole poem. Sigh...
Thanks, Kathy.I like it too. Smile.
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