How perfect would it be?
If it were only me?
I'm no poetic genius, but this came to me on the spot and was quite fun to think about. So let's think a little more out loud:
Originally conceived as I was rearranging the shelf in my bathroom. Yesterday I cleaned it and it just shone with an awesome radiance of cleanliness. And I thought man, what would it be like to live by myself? Not that I am unhappy living with my roommate.
But another thought that came to mind was to think more romantically? Or I suppose it depends on the thought behind the romance? Like what can bring a yearning to dream of being the person that someone thinks of? Or maybe we can become more cynical and pretend it is a person wishing to be the number one, the best of the best. Then I can see a poor figure on the balcony looking up to skies with discontent on his face and a sneer on his lips with a dreadful wish to be all that came to be.
That went a little grandiose there. What comes to your mind?
One of the reasons I enjoy short and ambiguous poetry is because all reading is reinforced and bred into being with your history, your stories. So the poem's meaning can change.
Extra bonus: the lines have the same number of syllables.
No comments:
Post a Comment