Edge
by Debashish Haar — Read all 156 poems by Debashish Haar
Sunday, February 19, 2006
It’s 2:30 am, walking on the terrace:
I see me ricochet against the edge
of an open window on the fourth floor.
I feel a strange numbness: a speck of ash
scatters, the end left to fall:
tumble and swing in mid air.
There’s no spark as the stub hits the ground.
I begin each day at 7:00 am
somewhere near the spot
where the stub hit the ground.
Copyright ©2006, Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved
Reindeer
Bobbi
vivid, crisp imagery ...
Take care,
Sherry
Peace.
Paul;-)
There will always be a spark for you Debashish ... You Are The Spark!
Love & Light,
Joseph