Unmade Beds Poem by Tony Noon
Unmade Beds
These are the unheard tapes.
Conversations half caught in
cafes, or curses at bus tardy
corners on cold thin mornings.
These are the unmade beds
of words spread out unedited
before morning draws them up
into comfortable cloud shapes.
These are the grainy sound bites
once captured and shared which
were swept from posterity's floor.
The moments which are truly ours.
Tony Noon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/14/2026 2:56:18 PM # 1.0.0
