Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Matthew Birch

Photo by RODNAE Productions on

from my lips
they form a pool

I’m not ready in time
You’re shouting
not that loud it’s funny
now I can open the door

Dried eyes and silence
I want to dive in again

I put on my coat
when the cold finds me.
I regret
wearing flip-flops and look to you
who goes barefoot.

I shout at the cold
when it doesn’t leave
and look to you once more.

Back turned

you follow the clouds

The oil in the frying pan
heats up
It sounds like melting rain

Just this sound
for comfort
Remembering yesterday’s weather.

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