magpie tales, Poetry



Just inside one window
the mind burrows beneath
a tender blanket of quiet
sleepless vigil the sun sets
into a next day dawn

Eating white crackers
for dinner, a sip of red wine
spills on white
tomorrow’s light will tell all

Feet walking somewhere
a muffled sound of life passing
no longer does the daily paper arrive
waiting for another’s voice

It’s almost time
a one cigarette smoke
outside beckoning balcony alone
calls in from an open window
a vacanted chair materializes

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Magpie no 207, photo: Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien. there are always waiting voices in buildings. waiting to speak, to be heard. I’ve listened and heard of lives lived, passed on… though some stay behind…


One thought on “daylight.magpie207

writing is everything...

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