As she walked into the room
Feet gliding over wood I can feel the coolness of the boards I scent the whiff of stale air Windows unopened for long periods As her skirt brushes by the bookcase I feel the breeze of it on my skin And then the cozy roughness of rug While kneeling on fuzzy carpet ensconcing a small table Words rush out of her mind Splashing page after page I feel the ink smear onto my palm, sticky Another blow-breeze flutters my hair As she places her writing-book to the side And then as her thoughts continue Circular about the room, roving with her eyes I can see them, too Curling cursives in the air As she seeks the next formulation of emotion And that blow-breeze of emotion Flows right through me And the air becomes still again as the windows close And the thoughts stop And the writing ends The heat of creation departs And once again, the wood floor is cool, The cardboard smell of emptiness returns The rooms is closed And my mind moves on to its next task Though it feels stale and darkened in this room.
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반찬(Banchan)Banchan is Hangul (Korean) for "side dish". Archives
July 2022
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