Title:
<div>Watching headlights cross the ceiling</div><div> </div><div>One more night spent</div><div>One more friend moves south</div><div> </div><div>The heat is a heartless banker</div><div>yet still can’t afford it.</div><div> </div><div>Sleep is frictionless</div><div>in the house but not of it.</div><div> </div><div>Now that he’s alone he’s </div><div>staining his blue cotton hat</div><div> </div><div>with dark continents of sweat</div><div>on scorched Sunday afternoons</div><div> </div><div>He mows in a white singlet</div><div>in a back yard flat as a pitch,</div><div> </div><div>the grace of an old-fashioned lawn.</div><div> </div>
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 7 and 5:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.