Sunday, September 26, 2010


The sky bright, clear
of birds, only wisps
of cloud brighter.
Then there are bony,
black intercrossing lines
out of place,
in their now familiar place
atop the red bricks of the
block outside my window
alone, always alone.

P.S.: Sitting in front of my notebook, reading and waiting for time to pass on a quiet Sunday afternoon before going for a run.

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