Wednesday, December 28, 2011


We met in the street at noon
Rain was in your hair and in my eyes
You came not a moment too soon
Though I am always a moment too late
Locking eyes--we remain ensconced
In a mental battle of psychic facades
Your lips look soft
So I melt my stern stance
And stand at ease
I have always found that men with soft mouths
Have decent intentions

1 comment:

  1. I like this one best. I know that I tend to prefer the starkness of monosyllabics and phrasing that does not burden the reader...