Title:
<i>Boomboom, boomboom, boomboom, . . . In my room, my one and only room Our speaker is just for myself It's my one and only gift </i><div><i> </i></div><div><i>slow yet effective The boom boom Languid and special We pause as each boom goes by Sniffing to smell the air for more powerful booms Touching the booms like we were in contact with them Savoring our apartness Our closeness suddenly drifting away This poem wants to be short but unique The moment wants to be long but plain The shiny hardwood floor, the empty wall, the clothes piled up in a heap, the bed we share for years together All this wants to be forever, the music, us, everything Particularly the embrace of one another we once had The tearing open of a present I will never forget The near tearing when it is over and there is nothing like this on the horizon, nothing at all The empty bottle sitting there, alone, apart, broken. </i></div><div><i> </i></div>
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 10 and 7:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.