Across My Ribcage

fours benches in a rose
garden
seats a maximum of one
the temperature is
rising
licking twenty degrees
celsius
or more
a city park, crowded
i hear the sound of traffic
cracking concrete
there is a quartet
playing in the background
one blackbird, at least
and the silent thieving by
magpies
cloaked behind their
vanity
while this glorious heat
lies gently on my face
embraces….
just gone three
and i feel free

By Paolo Michell

Advertisements

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s