A poem about daydreaming
Statements of Fact
The morning placed its cold
clammy hand on my shoulder,
its fingers closing on the bone
as I read my paper.
Three pigeons conspired
atop a brown brick wall,
the middle one never breaking
eye contact with me.
The blue coffee mug was home
to a tribe of Indians,
their campfire spiraling up
to my still sleepy nostrils.
You entered the living room
through a dusty sunbeam,
your smile closing the drawers
of my thoughts, one by one.
Comments
Nice poem, Darryl!
There are a lot of pigeons in Belgium (especially in the Brussels area), so I am not surprised that 3 of them are watching you ;-)
The image of the morning's cold hand on the shoulder is so striking, and I love this line: "your smile closing the drawers
of my thoughts, one by one"...that is pure poetry! ~Lurana
The morning, the pigeons, and even your coffee have all been given personality here...nicely done :-))
- Author
Thanks, kidscrafts. Indeed, we have so many that the city announced last week that it plans to take "measures" to reduce their numbers!
- Author
Thanks, Valleypoet. It was a very slow morning so I had to nudge them all along ;-)
- Author
Thanks Lurana :-)
Good imagery here. Liking the watchful pigeons :)
Enjoyed and great imagery.
- Author
Thanks Anna :-)
- Author
Cheers, Gypsy :-)
Very creative. I could feel your mood as I sat along side you sharing your coffee and muse.
I like the tribe of Indians living in the blue coffee mug. Nice poem Darryl. Voted up.
12