by Richard Vince

There are letters to write and
There is sleep to find, but
I find myself focussing on
The curve of a girl’s arm.

She inhabits a world that
I find hard to believe is real.
Palm trees and open top cars
Under sapphire skies are alien
To me, buried in the depths
Of an English winter.

Her days are long with
Laughter, while my hands
Dry out and crack like
The riverbeds of her world.

Sometimes I wish I had the time
To draw pictures and to write
Endless meaningless words, but
I know I would waste it,
Just as I squander the time
In which I can do
Important things.

The distractions are gone;
My eyes are almost closed.


Posted on 02/05/2009
Copyright © 2023 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Alison McKenzie on 02/17/09 at 10:17 PM

All of that, over the curve of a girl's arm. *shaking my head* Just amazing. And precious.

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2023 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)