Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Speak to Me of Prose

Those lines so tight and light they speak to me of prose.
The way that time turns back the clock,
this woman not a girl.
Open doors, clear windows show what I have to give.
Deep inside the closet is a door -closed he showed me.
Because you liked it still - Still I like it to!
Perhaps one day the woman that always was I am.
Perhaps one day the little girl out side she ran away.
My brain once his, is seen - I can not let it go.
Those the wise the way I choose when wisdom is because.
Above his mantle sits my clock, below his looks I have.

Submitted: Thursday, July 07, 2011
Edited: Tuesday, July 19, 2011
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