At the top, the wife the kids,
The family, friends,
The coworkers,
Poly higher ups,
It might come latter on if at all,
For the truck driver never.
I am less than a dirty secret.
Our love glances escape even the finely tuned ears and eyes that know, and have experience.
If it were young, free, it would be felt by all who know and sighed with,
Winked at, acknowledged.
It sits in the corner like a forgotten photograph, a scrap of paper not yet tossed aside.
And waits......
No comments:
Post a Comment