Wednesday, 13 May 2009

eighteen

Waiting For Godot in a Red Velvet Seat

The snow was made of light
The tree was made of wood, but had no roots
I was halfway up a summit
Craning my neck and holding onto a rail

He didn't come
But I was entertained, nonetheless
By those who occupied my mind
My space, the stage, and a sea of rows around me.

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