(untitled #72) Poem by bob barci

(untitled #72)

Rating: 2.7


I sit on windy porch
with hazelnut in my coffee.
Swift moving clouds
spell impending rain.
Impatiently, I wait
for phone call of good news.
Shall I be chosen for reality show?
The chill of the rain
drives me back inside
to keep an eye on the phone.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success