A moment’s notice…

Often, poetry
is a question of waiting.
Say, the rain streaked

the view from your desk, and
a wide eyed pigeon
cooed, from its nook

in the balcony
opposite, where the old lady
standing alone, suddenly

collared you studying
her wrinkled face, and
smiled in return.

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Posted on April 6, 2006, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. aaah, nice! i love hoarding memories of great moments πŸ™‚

  2. Nice πŸ™‚

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