poem that speaks my soul
Apr. 16th, 2004 01:36 amDRIVING THROUGH NEIGHBORHOODS
by Gretchen Fletcher
I live in your living room
for the short seconds it takes
to pass your window.
I sit in the glow from your lamp
and read a book from your shelves.
I water the fern that hangs in your window,
and feed the cat that sits on your sill.
Then, listening for someone
calling from the next room,
I finger your lace curtains
and adjust your blinds,
before moving on to live
in the next lighted living room
down the block.
(found browsing a wonderful site called openartspace.org)
by Gretchen Fletcher
I live in your living room
for the short seconds it takes
to pass your window.
I sit in the glow from your lamp
and read a book from your shelves.
I water the fern that hangs in your window,
and feed the cat that sits on your sill.
Then, listening for someone
calling from the next room,
I finger your lace curtains
and adjust your blinds,
before moving on to live
in the next lighted living room
down the block.
(found browsing a wonderful site called openartspace.org)