Terrace Poem by Anna Garland
Terrace
Rating: ★4.5
Here there is no phone
The sun, the baby in his carriage
chews on his hat, the table
with the candle on it, off, a glass
with ice cubes, diary, menu,
the wind blows, a couple with two
sunglasses, apple juice in a bottle,
an empty chair for someone
who isn’t coming
somewhere the phone rings,
rings, rings
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: summer
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4/25/2024 5:54:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
