Coming home to a squeaky hinge
and broken Xmas lights
hanging behind the woodgrained TV,
so happy to be out of the rain
and out of the city,
we collapse on the couch
and dream about what 1989 will be like:
clean air, scented like pine,
flying cars as quiet as hand dryers
and a world full of compassion.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment