Monologue
secondhand ticks slow, my head is hung low
drear interior, greys and whites, with flickering lights
floors so waxed they reflect, myself i can see
my state is in step with the lighting, jitter
bitter, the coffee is stale, she was pale
racing speech, i understand, i comprehend
my mind moves faster, than a greyhound race.
wait.
what did she say, i was distracted
by that monologue, will those behind me
not be silent, i just want them to be compliant.
12/12/21 – Andy McRae
Tag: grey
Descending Twilight
Descending Twilight Twilight has descended upon us One light goes out, many flicker on A grey ambiance fills our eyes Chilling, dark air fills our lungs. Night is upon us, as we sigh In collective relief. 6/30/21 – Andy McRae
RadioactivePoetry 