Old Poetry

Flipping through an old notebook a couple of days ago I found a poem scribbled on a much-doodled paper with phone numbers, stars, and a couple of notes. I thought I'd add it to this blog for the sake of having an electronic copy of my writing. Here it is:

We Three

Darkness settles quietly on my balcony,

Waiting like a snowstorm waits

For midnight to bury footprints and flowers.

I open my fridge;

Not much there:

Jar of pickles, carton of milk.

You don't need much when you feed yourself.

The gleam of glasses makes me wonder

If anyone can see my eyes glisten.

Probably not.

A single light overhead creates a faint circle

Around me and my book.

The darkness has moved cautiously indoors.

Just a couple more sentences.

Once I leave for bed,

The silence joins me

And then it is just we three:

Mr, the silence, and darkness.

-Rachel Pickett-