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hidebehind.
by Andrew S Adamsas i open my eyes and these pillows
are concrete, this bed is a sinkhole.
the sun is shining through the window, but
it is one of those days where it shines in that
silver silence; the kind where it is not by choice
but by force that it makes it through the clouds at all-
it shines because it must, and that is about as much as
i can ask from it, because i'm not putting forth much
effort myself; i'd just as soon stay in the confines of this
bed until this coward sun shows its face-
however, i can't blame him for
what he's doing,
just as he can
not blame me. 05/07/2005 Posted on 05/07/2005
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 05/08/05 at 08:18 AM Andrew, this is terrific! Your poetry is growing on me. I especially like the fact that you wrote about the sun in relation to moods. Great work!
~Chelle~ |
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