I find its hard to read you,
Like a book in the 7th grade.
As there is no way i can focus,
On the writing on the page.
A single bird flys by
The window of your class
My eyes now fixed outside
Waiting for it to pass.
I turn the page again,
As its what I must do.
And ill keep turning the pages
Until your book is thru.
I don't know what I've retained
From this strange practice of sorts.
I'll guarantee you this,
There'll be no book reports.
There was no book before me,
But only your face you see,
And I turned away, not pages
Every time you looked at me.
I tell you I can't read you,
And that's why I look away.
As I don't know if you spoke
What it is I'd say.
Copyright Justin Gerges 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment