I am like some weary traveler
in a hotel room
lost between the shower and the ice machine
with plans to come home
for the holidays
we would have coffee
a candle flickers on the table
your hands play with your spoon
I watch you brush the hair from your forehead
loosen the scarf at your neck
your eyes look beyond me
to some future that almost was
and I fade from the table
stranded on some stretch of highway
a long way from home
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My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
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Excellent and very poignant. And I can tell “lost between the shower and the ice machine” is going to stick in my memory.
Thank you, Robert.
Lovely. The distance and closeness at the same time. 🙂
Thank you, Martina.
Beautiful.
Thank you.
Brilliant. They all, your poems, now seem like notes for IDIN vol two. And I’ll never read any of them again without trying to interpret them.
Thank you.
Lovely.
Thank you.
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