Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Morning Song



This morning traffic has rhythm,
a horn blast from outside
echos
a trumpet blast from within,

a short stop outside
is followed by
a crash (cymbal) in,

I shake my head
to clear this illusion,

for I know
the world
and I
are never
that
in tune.

2 comments:

  1. Hate to tell you, but yes you are. Great poem.

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  2. Thanks Mosk. I may be in tune with my own little world but . . .

    ReplyDelete