The sun moves above me
but not in an honest way.
The morning smells of burnt mallow.
A thousand windows open as if
someone important will visit us.
But the houses are empty.
Spinning with borrowed eyes the world unframed.
Look at this! the cypress trees have fled.
The doors are locked again.
Leslie Philibert's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Untitled by Leslie Philibert )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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