by Author Name Withheld 218

Created on: April 13, 2010

From my mirror - reflections of a warm spring day.
I layer a white shirt above a red and throw on some good ole Levi blues.
My shoes - not today. I'll let my pedicure pave the way.
But as I tip toe the concrete, beating the paved heat...a poem recites from my freed mind.

I will bask in the lemon called sun
The task of all worries will dilute into fun
My blue jeans are tattered; the pockets are holes
So this poem I'll recite; keeping buried in my soul
A poem in my pocket - no, nor a locket
It's searing my brain - there's no way to stop it
Who am I, where am I, what shall I be
Some words and adverbs best describes me

A poem.

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