tagNon-Erotic PoetryGlass Houses

Glass Houses


If I were to gather all the flowers
you've sent me in messages,
my hothouse would be more
exotic than any wintergarden,
the scents heady, suspended in
moisture trapped between glass walls,
amidst strains of harpsichords.

I don't quite know whether I would
be the lady lost in thought, book
open, neglected in my lap,
finger marking the page...

or the one whose nose is pressed
against the glass, looking
at a world I can only conjure
but never truly take part in.

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bylegerdemer© 4 comments/ 1043 views/ 0 favorites

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