broadview opens
to a sharp view
a glimpse
of the world
outside
but almost as
quickly as it
comes
it goes
the light engulfed by a
murky station.
grey
walls grey
ceilings.
his mouth gapes
hands folded
i can see his
laboured breath.
mine
i notice
is 3 paces slower.
i feel
remorse
for the old stranger
who is waiting...
to a sharp view--I'd like to see you do something with this line here, I'm not sure what a sharp view is, it's vague
ReplyDeleteI would cut the last line out, it takes away from the poem as the reader is left asking this question already anyway, so it's somewhat redundant.
Beautiful poem though.
i took out the last line (waiting for what). i'll come back to polish 'to a sharp view'
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