It’s there somewhere

Between the laugh lines
Among the discarded toys
Hidden in the crevices
Plastic bags in the pantry
The weight of it ripping through
A cacophony of morning bells
A foghorn marking the sunrise
The smell of fried foods
+++from nextdoor
The cook’s a nice bloke
++but I don’t him well
We’ll never know
++one Tuesday
++from the next, but
++we’ll remember these songs
We’ll never know
++the length of a city sunrise
++between the crowded houses, but
++we’ll remember how it crept in



Leave a comment

Filed under Words

What do you think? Let me know with a word or three!

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

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s