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 )
- If all we know is love, Mark Heathcote
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- im not okay, Faith Taylors
- The world is like a worm, Mark Heathcote
- Our shared tear, Julie Shirley
- Conscious Peal, Adeosun Olamide
- Living Contradictions, Sandra Feldman
- Alley Church, Adeosun Olamide
- Desirable Effects, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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