8:05 AM

Reads: 451  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem inspired by a situation experienced in high school.

The smell of decaf coffee floats down the hall.
There on his desk, it idly waits to be used.
The room sits empty, the sun just barely peeking
Under the half raised shades.
Silence.

The sound of keys, clashing against each other
Ring out in the corridor.
He smiles as he enters, placing a hand on my arm
To say hello.

Taking a moment to settle in, he takes a sip
From the cup and closes his eyes to enjoy
The warmth.
He plays with papers, to look busy. Teasing them.
Shuffle, shuffle, tap tap, pile.
Shuffle, shuffle, tap tap pile.

I watch quietly, thoughts squirming,
Climbing over one another.

He nods as if his work complete.

Our eyes meet.
We never look back
Until what is, is what's past.

 


Submitted: July 25, 2007

© Copyright 2021 IvyWinter. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

Other Content by IvyWinter

Poem / Poetry

Poem / Poetry