A motorbike speeds in the distance,
it’s 1am and my thoughts are of you.
Wind blows chimes and my cigarette
as I stand by the window.
I belong here tonight.
A minor crime, a minor slip,
it’s nothing compared to the promise I still keep.
Cars find their way home,
neighbours sleep,
and I stand vigil once more.
Pages of letters,
confessions,
feelings,
words I wrote and emotions I felt.
The cold air keeps me awake,
and I lean on the frame as this town says goodnight.
Do I belong?
Questions I ask myself.
Am I still a child,
despite all my efforts?
(c) 2008
nicole
November 17, 2011 at 4:36 am
this entry’s photograph reminds me of carrie bradshaw, sitting in her apartment window, thinking of mr. big. x
Ina
November 17, 2011 at 9:42 am
Growing up mentally is hard, getting mature even harder. But if you can write poems like this, you are certainly wise
charlesmashburn
November 17, 2011 at 4:06 pm
Wonderful writing! Great picture, too. You brought it to life with your words.
http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/like-a-pearl-set-in-gold/
thingy
November 17, 2011 at 8:02 pm
Fabulous piece. I think we all ask if we belong, at times. : )
Morning
November 17, 2011 at 8:20 pm
lovely argument,
keep it up.
ZQ
November 18, 2011 at 1:32 pm
Vigilant picture, expressed in perceptive vigilant words. very nice.
poetsandandall
November 19, 2011 at 7:18 am
amazing post. Thank you for sharing this with us
http://poetsandall.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/our-safe-zone/
disjointedrhymings
November 21, 2011 at 1:18 pm
Beautiful write and a great choice of image to go with it