Tuesday, March 21, 2006

upon my death


I sit on a pink cloud
Passing by
Over my pink city,
And there lies my home,
Lights still on within,
And nobody seems to be mourning,
Except the peeling paint on the door,
And the moss on the window sill.
My discarded clothes still litter the floor,
And nobody now enters my room,
And the sunset in my room sinks into the lake,
And my pink cloud passes by.

2 comments:

Solan said...

I would rather choose to comment on this one than the one above. this one is good woman...
reading your poems I feel so proud of both of us!

uglygirl said...

i too
of me and of you
and that we are friends
and that you inspire me