the light of the Moon snuffed out among the stars,
the Mona Lisa stripped of her knowing grin,
and the dogs of the East Side go to their beds
without a bite of supper.
Driving home only takes a few centuries
in the failing light, and the rain,
the radio barks that the dogs are still hungry
as they lay fitful in half-sleep,
and the Mona Lisa certainly looks nonplussed.
Tomorrow, I’ll re-write this poem;
and when people ask me what it’s about
I’ll tell them 'life is short, love just to love',
hoping to see your smile emerge from the named
and the Mona Lisa certainly looks nonplussed.
Tomorrow, I’ll re-write this poem;
and when people ask me what it’s about
I’ll tell them 'life is short, love just to love',
hoping to see your smile emerge from the named
and nameless crowds all around at any moment.
~
~
2 comments:
This is a True Poem with many thrilling phrases and surprises. Seriously. The Real Deal: You, Mike
Thank you so much! I sat down and wrote what I thought. Not much more than that, really.
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