Poetry

michael suarez


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26 december 2011

Orders Are Fogged

Sitting in a glass
No way for time to pass
Listening to thunder
Waiting for the city's blunder
Using time to contemplate
Hopefully I will find an escape
Looking at the clock
As I walk down the block
I notice the sky
And remember the girl with "those" eyes
Memories abroad
But all turn to fog
My orders they will obey
Before this moment of dismay
They give a kaleidoscope as a present
And receive a diamond as a gift
You fell as poor as peasant
And your mind is a drift






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