it was 4:45
Two teenagers kiss
goodbye on a corner,
clutching each other,
clutched by the tangy
desperation of first love.
The sun setting in stripes
across my patio like
every other day.
A frozen enchilada.
Birds chatter of
worms and squirrels,
heedless of the comings
and goings
of humans,
the sky a strange combination of
Spring and Fall,
neither a start nor a finish,
a just.
The quiet breeze, strange light
cats claw furniture then
catch a beam of
dying sun
Windchimes murmur to
each other,
spreading rumors.
Everyone quiets down,
bird and squirrel,
wind and chime.
The sky holds
its breath,
preparing to weep.

-by Lynette Silva, on yesterday's deadline


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Thursday, March 20, 2003 : 9:56 AM     0 Comments  


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