Untitled - Poem by Leslie Philibert
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.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You