h1

Windowless

April 13, 2009

The sun glints off morning hills
as he climbs slowly over
tired buildings,
still a-hum with night time.

“Step into my office,” I say,
door open –
but he waits stubborn overhead,
only shining for those who
come to him,
stepping briefly out of daytime dungeons

to sit, face upturned, begging,
waiting to be stroked.

 

Written 3 April 09 – ER

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