Entry tags:
Poem: conversations
We talk about
everything –
words rambling like briars over
fertile ground, reaching
for some common goal, some
shared opinion. We
disagree, sometimes, but gently.
We agree, mostly, in a rush of same syllable synchrony,
tripping over one another, tanglefooted.
Bedtime comes too soon.
So do phone bills.
everything –
words rambling like briars over
fertile ground, reaching
for some common goal, some
shared opinion. We
disagree, sometimes, but gently.
We agree, mostly, in a rush of same syllable synchrony,
tripping over one another, tanglefooted.
Bedtime comes too soon.
So do phone bills.
no subject
no subject