A Cricket Sang Good Luck
I sat against your knees all night.
I watched the sun rise in your coffee cup.
In all that time you never spoke to me.
I think I must have cried a thousand tears.
Inside the wall a cricket sang good luck.
The irony of that did not escape you.
For when I tilted up my chin you smiled
To think how once he conned us with that song.
The morning rises white against the pane,
Bland as a sheet of paper without words.
Our eyes communicate it silently,
I think this fog goes on and on, my friend.
I sat against your knees all day.
I watched the sun sink in your coffee cup.
I think we must have cried a thousand tears.
Before the cricket sang us both to sleep.
From my book, 'The Colors Cry In Rain', Apollo Books, USA
Sandra Fowler's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Cricket Sang Good Luck by Sandra Fowler )
- Shut up for good, gajanan mishra
- The Enemy, Jose Orozco
- आथिखाल, Ronjoy Brahma
- Life is Nothing but Texture~, Mr. Nobody Nothing
- How Is Your Life In The Matrix?, Mr. Nobody Nothing
- That bench is my dear., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Loneliness, Ashwini Annigeri
- समनि नायथाय- 25, Ronjoy Brahma
- I am not uttering, gajanan mishra
- Holy and pure, hasmukh amathalal
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 March 1926 – 25 July 1966)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)