Saturday, October 10, 2009

Friday Night

A dark-skinned man plays his guitar
As in a smoky, empty bar,
Shoulders wildly mimicking
Heavy swing of some old rock
Song about broken love
Unheard on such nights.

The couple at the bus stop becomes
Another creature with two hands,
One heart whose whispers run like
Stream through a forest, or mouse
Scampering for food in the dark,
Eyes only opened to its world.

On a bus this poem writes
In a soundless night
Singing in loneliness for some,
Loveliness for others,
And in both, a chord
this poem might find.

No comments: