|
||||||||
|
Atmosphere An atmosphere I tend to think Is like a premonition It betrays a cheating heart at once In silence if you’ll listen
It might be body language It might be in the eyes It might be in the words unsaid It might be in the lies
An aftershave so innocent But it's not the one you wear It's on her dress and on her slip Now what's it doing there?
What first gave you an inkling From which suspicion grew? What signs did you rely on When looking for the truth?
What made you stop and wonder? What sparked a young man's fear? Was it something wholly tangible Or was it just an atmosphere?
© Joseph G Dawson Vote for this poem
|
|
|||||
| |