I wrote this poem when a thought came to my mind of winter coming in out of the cold, escaping his own creation, and enjoyed watching it grow from there.
Winter came late,
brushing the snowflakes from his
coat, and ordering a cappuccino
at the counter. He issued
apologies and meekly blamed
Caroline, his girlfriend
for years, “Her damned slow driving.”
She was outside,
parking the car.
I have broken up “Desire – A Poetic Trilogy” so that each poem will stand alone instead. The title of this post has changed to reflect this as it now only contains the poem Echo.
I would like to meet you,
with one hand in my pocket, and my hair cut
short and close. It would be Wednesday.
Under a street lamp a sign says
“Do Not Park”.
You would have red leather shoes
and a yellow dress on that you bought from a store
next to a fruit stand. You had an apple in your purse.
The phone rang empty while you
moved through the racks.