Tuesday, April 30, 2013


Into the light (Explored)
 Photo Credit: Brian Smithson (Old Geordie) via Compfight cc

It never ends.
You follow the path
and it doesn't take long
before you realise
that you are walking in circles,
passing the point you started from
thousands of times.
It is all right
you'll never get tired of this,
your muscles crave the repetition,
you look forward
to the familiar landmarks.
Yet the real challenge
is in noticing the differences:
the position of the sun
on your face,
the way the ground feels
under your feet
and the sound of your own voice
in your ears
as you sing
the same tune
over and over.

It is Day 30 in NaPoWriMo, the last day. I posted every single day and on some days I wrote more than one poem, so I need to count the poems and see how many I have written (yes, I am boasting). I am grateful to all my new friends for reading my poems. I am planning to continue posting once a week. What are your plans?

Albert feared the finality of completion. Photo Credit: zen via Compfight cc

By the way, I used the Day 30 PAD prompt.

Monday, April 29, 2013

A Concise Serbian-English Dictionary - Part 2

 Photo Credit: MrPhilDog via Compfight cc

Početak, the beginning
It was just another challenge
I was to try and fail.
Put, the road,
was not always easy,
but I forgot an important fact:
Pesma je neophodna da bi se preživelo
(a poem is necessary for survival).
A day - dan
and the smallest unit of time
is a poem.
Friends, prijatelji,
the people I met along the way.
Tajna, a secret,
what you share with friends.
Kraj, the end.
But you don't have to stop
if you don't want to.

It is Day 29 in NaPoWriMo. I have really enjoyed today's prompt, which has enabled me to 'teach' people some Serbian and to send some love to all the new friends that I have made in this challenge.Today's PAD prompt gave me more ideas, so I combined the two. This is the second poem in the Concise Serbian-English  Dictionary series (might not be the last). The first one is here. I will add an audio file to this soon.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

I Am Not Going to Write a Poem Today

Blank Pages In An Open Notebook Photo Credit: Pink Sherbet Photography via Compfight cc

I am not going
To write a poem
I can’t be expected
To produce
A new poem
Every day.
It can’t be done.
I won’t do it
Any more.
I refuse
To write a poem.
I have got
Nothing to say.
Go to the library.
Find yourself a nice novel.
Leave me alone.
I am going
To keep quiet.
I will not speak
Evey if you torture me.
I will not
Write a poem

NaPoWriMo Day 28

Saturday, April 27, 2013

I Am a Bird

home with free electricity Photo Credit: kainet via Compfight cc

I am a bird
I build my nest
From what others
Have dropped.
I weave my home
From other people’s
Words and footsteps.
I look through their eyes.
I speak their tongues.
I feel with their skin.
I am a perfect conductor
And I can take it all
Without resistance.

My NaPoWriMo Day 27 poem and I didn't really follow the prompt.

Save Nature Photo Credit: Kuzeytac (will be back soon) via Compfight cc

Friday, April 26, 2013

He Casts His Nets

dedicated to Branko Miljković

rescue Photo Credit: Mike_tn via Compfight cc

He casts his nets
The sea will not rest tonight
He is not afraid to listen to its song.
He leaves, he just walks out
And takes the fire with him,
The thief.
He is not afraid to walk through the wood
That has eaten the sky.
Still, he cannot find her,
The girl with the flower in her name.
In the underworld
He searches for his brother
Who has failed.
He carries a torch
And is not afraid
To turn and look behind him.
He doesn’t belong among the dead
But they won’t release him.
The victim of murderous words,
He is not afraid to be walled in.
Tamed, the Hell will eat out of his hand
And sing.
He casts his nets.
He draws them out, empty.
He is the fish on the table today, 
His blood, the ink for the writing orgy
Of those he knows will come after him,
Of the happy ones
And the cowards.
But today
He still has only
The fire
And me.

My NaPoWriMo Day 26 poem. I modified the NaPoWriMo prompt and combined it with the PAD Day 26 prompt. The poem is dedicated to the Serbian poet Branko Miljković who has influenced my poetry a lot. What I tried to do here is write a poem about his poetry and to create a collage of his pictures and metaphors. The nets are my idea, though :)

Thursday, April 25, 2013

What Might Happen If I Ever Read My Poetry in Public

Davant dels focus // In the Limelight
Photo Credit: ~Oryctes~ via Compfight cc

My accent is foreign
My voice quiet
I stutter.
Somewhere inside me
I find the passion,
Then begin.
I tell them everything.
Years of dreams
All leading to this moment.
When I finish
Everybody claps
They all avoid me
In the corridors.

My NaPoWriMo Day 25 poem. I used the PAD prompt for Day 25 and modified it slightly.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

My Fingers

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo shared by Ferran.

My fingers know what is expected of them.
I leave them alone
And they get the job done
Every time.
I let them run
On their own.
They never come back
Without their prey
Whatever they bring to my door
I accept.
No questions asked.
They never bother me.
They are very independent.
They know I need my rest
After a hard day.
We are locked in this game,
My fingers and I.
I never know what they are hunting for.
I fear their return,
For I know
I’ll have to sink my teeth into
Whatever they decide to leave
On my threshold.

It's NaPoWriMo Day 24 and I used the PAD Day 24 challenge

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

I See You


My son is 13 tomorrow, so this is my NaPoWriMo Day 23 poem. Technically, you could say that I followed the PAD prompt for Day 23, though I was going to write this anyway.

I see you
In the car
That day before the school started
Your eyes wide with fear.
I see you
In your room
Whispering to your toy puppy
Do you still tell him your secrets?
You are three years old now
Learning the alphabet from fridge magnets
Asking endless questions.
You are sitting in my lap
Fiddling with my earrings,
I have just come back
From a trip.
Now it’s winter and you are
Playing with your toy computer
Getting all the numbers right again
The penguins dance on the screen
And you clap your hands.
You are laughing
As you watch cartoons.
You are in the kindergarten, crying,
As I leave you there
You are crying as they cut
The umbilical cord, but stop
When they give you to me
I wish I still had that power over you.
I see you
You are a teenager
You can open a Facebook account
Or get an email of your own.
You never spoke much
I have to feel you with my stomach
It is scary to have that ability 
And there must be
Something I can do
To keep you safe.

Monday, April 22, 2013

The Garden, in its Absence

In its absence, the garden
Seems to have no purpose.
The memory of it
Is clear,
Yet there is no life
In the memory itself.
We may dream of the garden and hope
That it still exists.
We may believe that it is the same
As we remember it.
Though, of course, it won’t be.
Something will be different:
A stone upturned
A tree a year older
That flower that used to grow in the corner -
Long dead.
A bird will have left
And moved somewhere else.
Other birds will sing
And something new will crawl in the grass.

My NaPoWriMo Day 22 poem. 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

How Do You Like Them Cookies

strangers. cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by Josh Kenzer: http://flickr.com/photos/shoot-art/3918507550/

You will hunt by night and sleep by day.
You will tear everything you weave and enjoy both activities equally.
You will hide your dreams in a drawer out of fear that sunlight will turn them into ashes.
You will be a voluntary insomniac.
You will be faithful to everything you touch – the people, the objects, the memories. You never know when you might need them on your side.
You will forever be thirsty.
Are you sure you want one more? They are fattening, you know.

My NaPoWriMo Day 21 poem. I seem to have run out of things to say, but I am still posting. I also did the PAD Day 21 poem. They are connected.

20071021 - Grandma's birthday - 140-4068 - weird fortune cookies

Why I did it

I stole the cookies
And replaced the messages.
You need to lose weight.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Beyond Meaning

magnetic poetry cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by surrealmuse: http://flickr.com/photos/surrealmuse/4757004/

Salt on my wound,
All those words I don’t understand
Such as non-pareil
And dunderhead.
The little man doesn’t like
These elusive words.
Have you got nothing of your own
To tell us?
The meaning has absconded
From this poem.
There are word generators
That do a better job than you did here.
They produce honest words, such as
And cheese.
All these words
Could have had a purpose
In a real poem.
They are squandered
On this mechanical cyclops,
This ghost in a gutter,
This billius ego trip.
No wonder
Poetry has
Such bad reputation.

I have to say that I didn't really enjoy the NaPoWriMo Day 20 prompt, but I decided not to take myself too seriously and to fool around with it. The PAD prompt for today was "beyond" and it was easy to combine these two. 

Friday, April 19, 2013

Day 19 - Ads and Fires

Let's-Go-Shopping cc licensed ( BY SA ) flickr photo by x-ray delta one: http://flickr.com/photos/x-ray_delta_one/3935087159/

Personal Ads

On sale
Peace of mind and sanity.
Well preserved
One careful lady owner.

Rage, rants and raves
Tamed and housebroken
Trained to guard and assist

This is my NaPoWriMo Day 19 poem. The challenge was to write a personal ad.

I wrote one more, using the PAD prompt for Day 19 (burn). You can read all sorts of symbolism into it if you wish, but I was simply reminding myself of the proper procedure for lighting a fire in our holiday house. We have this crazy old-fashioned stove which is quite temperamental and stubborn.

Heat cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by akahodag: http://flickr.com/photos/akahodag/1455082181/

How to Light a Fire

A pile of cones
Should be made first.
Make sure they are dry.
A couple of pages from a newspaper,
All this in the form of  a pyramid. 
Put two pieces of wood 
On top 
Make sure they are small.
You should have three piles of wood ready
Starting from small pieces on the right
To the logs on the left.
The small pieces will catch fire fast.
Keep adding them 
Until the fire builds.
Then you can use
Larger and larger pieces
And finally, the coal.
That should keep you warm for a while.
The coal pieces shouldn't be
Too big.
The entrance to the stove is narrow
And your hands are small.
Oh, and never throw anything
Straight into the fire.
That might extinguish it
Before it builds.
Use the corners instead.
Now you can light a match
And put it on top of the paper.
After that, just wait
There is nothing else to do.
You can offer a little prayer
If you are so inclined.
If the wood doesn’t catch fire
That first time,
Just keep trying. 

Thursday, April 18, 2013

I Am a Hard Disc

Untitled cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by egaistek: http://flickr.com/photos/29276244@N03/3200630853/

I count
The ones and the zeroes as I try
To make some sense
Of the random thoughts that start to emerge.
I remember everything,
The movie of my life
Frame by frame
The pictures and the sounds,
Full of data
That I am not allowed to forget:
Who said what to whom
And why
What I thought and felt
What I said and
What I should have said
If I had thought about it
More carefully,
Old programs
That I never use any more
But might need one day,
That was important once,
Millions of
And all those books.
Is inside me as I keep

For Day 18 I combined the NaPoWriMo prompt with the PAD prompt.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Not My Mother Tongue

B is for Barbie cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by CherrySoda!: http://flickr.com/photos/cherrysoda/115956078/

This language is foreign to me.
It will not bend under my tongue.
It rebels against me.
I am under its spell.
A toddler with a Barbie doll,
I stretch its limbs too far
And it breaks.
I need to learn 
How to behave myself
Before I come to play again.

My NaPoWriMo Day 17 poem and I used the Day 17 PAD prompt (expression).

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


Babelfish cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by --Tico--: http://flickr.com/photos/tico_bassie/4120114329/

It's Day 16 in NaPoWriMo and our task today is to "translate" a poem written in a language we don't speak, using this site. I chose this beautiful poem by Elisa Biagini. I decided to retell it rather than translate it, but after reading the real translation I really feel like a traitor for doing this to it:

I think she loves him a lot.
I think they don’t speak the same language.
She translates his life
With the aid of feng shui.
She sings to him,
Her voice in harmony with his voice.
They don’t speak the same language,
But she writes his life with her body.
She summons the wind to clear the path he is taking,
But there is that bit about the water she used to wash the dishes 
That I don’t quite understand.
She reads his life to him, 
I believe,
In strange doorways.
As he passes by, she pulls him
Into the museum she created of his life.
Of their life.
Hers is an artist’s portfolio.
She is a collector of memorabilia,
Trying to capture the essence of him,
To keep it on the shelves of her museum,
To protect it.
The acid rains
That have been falling for years
Will not taint the silver of their past.

Monday, April 15, 2013

They Come at Night

Moth cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by code poet: http://flickr.com/photos/alphageek/254391170/

NaPoWriMo Day 15 (halway there!). I used the PAD Challenge for Day 15 and wrote two poems, different in tone.

They come at night
Thousands of
Barely visible
They hide in our closets
While we sleep
Tearing the fabric
Leaving behind
Something that resembles
Our past
But is not quite like it.
A new day comes
And, embarrassed,
We look at each other.
The seams are not quite there
And the sun can be seen
Through the tears.

090711-05 cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by +yooco+: http://flickr.com/photos/rutsu/3709434413/

They come at night, one by one,
Out of a secret drawer
She surrounds herself with
Sweet little stuffed animals
They are everywhere
And she knows that, once again,
Everything’s good
And she can be
The princess
In her own story.
Don’t tell anyone. 
They might think it is strange
For a woman her age
To have such a dirty secret.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

The Nice Girl in Your Neighbourhood

Wonder Woman cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by pullip_junk: http://flickr.com/photos/pullip_junk/7681283188/

I was made of clay
And I am as old as the Earth itself.
Nothing about me 
Is the way it seems.
My magic is powerful,
My clothes are lethal weapons,
My wings are invisible
And you’d better never get to know
My rage.
I can be sweet and modest
If that is required.
But don’t you ever
Lie to me
And, whatever you do,
Don't stick around
If I decide to take off
My bracelets.

My NaPoWriMo Day 14 poem.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Day 13 - In the Woods

Magic! between the trees cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by fatboyke (Luc): http://flickr.com/photos/fatboyke/2984569992/

It is a nice day.
Nothing spectacular,
But the sun is shining and
It is warm enough.
I leave the building,
Go past the shops,
The school and the open market,
Past the swimming pool, now padlocked,
And into the woods. 
It is different here,
Cool and dark
And I need my sweater again.
The trees know it is spring time,
Thought some of them 
Still have bare branches.
The ground is soft,
A little muddy,
Not too bad.
There are ferns by the path
And a red plastic bag.
A dog is wearing red too.
It is a sweater
And he must be hot. 
Maybe he is a she,
I don't know.
I try to record mentally 
Everything I see,
For I will have to write about it
Still, I lose track
Of the number of times 
I hear a bird singing.
I fail to notice
The green numbers on trees,
The swings
And the birdhouse, 
As I am weighing pros and cons
And pluses and minuses
And good sides and bad sides,
Thinking of a decision I will have to make,
One day,
Though maybe
I will never have to make that decision,
But it is better to be prepared,
Just in case.

My NaPoWriMo Day 13 poem

Friday, April 12, 2013

Day 12 - Cracks in the Wall

Crack in the Wall cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by rabiem22: http://flickr.com/photos/rabiem/8442193634/

There are cracks
in the walls
the house is tilted
to one side
your legacy
before our eyes
we do nothing
we watch
time passes and the garden
gives in to entropy
new plants, new trees
and that rosebush that’s
gone wild.
Time passes and your legacy
changes and people
stand on the doorstep,
then leave
never to come back and I
remain inside, though time
leaves traces on me too.

The first poem was written using the 2013 April PAD Challenge prompt for Day 12.

And in the second poem I used the NaPoWriMo Day 12 prompt.

trying to blend in cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo by Darwin Bell: http://flickr.com/photos/darwinbell/3522474942/

I will not write a poem about you

I will not write a poem about you
I promised never
I will not mention you in my poetry
You will never get in here
This space is mine
Password protected
And secret
The days I read my poetry to you
Are finished
I know you are scared
Your thoughts are censored
Your ground is firm
You see me clearly
And, in your vision, I am safe
As long as I stay away
From poetry.
Who knows what might be revealed
If I write a poem about you.
Don’t worry.
I will not
I promised I wouldn’t.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Two Short Poems for Day 11

Ignite the moment... cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by ViaMoi: http://flickr.com/photos/viamoi/3012259645/

In Case of Fire

In case of fire
I will not save this poem.
I’ll leave it to burn.
Maybe there’ll be some sparks then.
Maybe we’ll see some passion.

Blue Smoke cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by lindes: http://flickr.com/photos/lindes/248862557/

If only

If I could only
Express it with clarity,
if I was better
at metaphors and such things
maybe I would be great, then.

Two tankas for Day 11 of NaPoWriMo (hopefully I have got the form right). The first poem also follows the Day 11 PAD Challenge prompt.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

I Can't Do This Any More

Untitled cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by Massimo Margagnoni: http://flickr.com/photos/50335549@N05/7170224022/

We meet at midnight,
Tired and disillusioned.
The habit has set in.
I drag my feet through the mud
To reach the empty field
Where you are already waiting.
Why am I the only one
Doing the hard work?
You take my time
And leave me frustrated.
Every night I promise myself
I will not come.
For thirty days we meet,
We wrestle.
I suffer.
You grow.
You feed on my misery.
You have put on weight
Since we started.
I am drained.
I am fading.
I have nothing else
To give.
Yet I keep coming.
I drag my feet along this path
Filling it with my words,
My life,
Carefully coded.
Each night
A new riddle.
Where will you take me next?

My Day 10 entry for NaPoWriMo. I combined the NaPoWriMo prompt and the 2013 PAD prompt for Day 10.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Dark Mirror

Which one is real?
The predator,
Hiding in the shadows,
Motionless, waiting,
The silver in her hand 
Caught by moonlight?
Or is it the other one?
The meek creature
Who comes out only
During daytime?
Does it matter?
They both lie and, in the long run, 
It will make no difference to you.
Whoever she is,
She will hunt you down.
She will take everything you have
And everything you are.
This nightmare,
This reflection in the mirror,
She is all you will ever know.
She will make you walk for miles,
And you’ll never find out her name.

My entry for NaPoWriMo Day 9 (prompt: film noir) and for 2013 PAD Day 9 (prompt: a hunter poem).

Monday, April 8, 2013

Day 8 - How to Build a House

Betania window (400 favs reached!), par Franck Vervial cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by Franck Vervial: http://flickr.com/photos/vervial/6084493791/

Build your house
On a hill.
That will give you an advantage
Over your neighbours
And it will keep you dry
When the floods come.
Lay your foundations
Onto the roots
Of an oak tree.
That will remind you
There’s someone older
And stronger around.
Your ditch should be large and deep.
You don’t need any unwanted visitors.
The door should be simple, made of wood,
And it should creak when you open it.
That way you will know 
That your job is not done.
Make your windows large,
So there is always plenty of light,
But build a deep cellar
To retreat to when you need darkness.
Finally, a tower
To write in,
Solitary and secluded
With just a single window,
Should you wish
To let your hair down.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

The Only Problem

Three Birds cc licensed ( BY ND ) flickr photo by h.koppdelaney: http://flickr.com/photos/h-k-d/4030113126/

To celebrate seven days of NaPoWriMo (and eight written poems), I should have created something festive. Instead, I came up with the darkest poem I have written this week. Sorry, but it's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

He bought a rope.
Then he fixed that fence.
He had been postponing it for a long time.
He tidied the house
and wrote a will.
Then he wrote one more letter.
He took his bills out of the box and checked them.
All paid.
He called his son, who said he was feeling better today 
and even managed to eat.
He hung up, then called his daughter.
She was unavailable.
It was getting late, so he had to hurry.
He took the rope from where it was lying
And slowly walked out.
At the door he stopped and looked at the room.
All nice and tidy.
Then he walked over to the barn.
That was all.
But who will take care of his cat now? 

Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Post

Mailbox cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by cindy47452: http://flickr.com/photos/cindy47452/1796528206/

It was their home.
I don’t know 
What they thought or felt,
If anything, 
But they must have enjoyed
The garden
And the kind autumn sun.
The cold must have killed them.
They say this happens to wasps
When the weather changes.
They also say the queen leaves the nest
And goes into hybernation 
During winter.
I hope she did that.
The nest was still there,
The mailbox was full of them.
There was nothing else inside.
Nobody writes letters 
These days.

My NaPoWriMo Day 6 poem. I used the PAD Challenge Day 6 prompt (the word was "post").

Friday, April 5, 2013

A Box Full of Trinkets

Buttons cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by ahisgett: http://flickr.com/photos/hisgett/504354910/

Just start
And keep going
It will all make sense in the end
The words
A box full of trinkets
That dog
Who loved you
That afternoon
When the sun was hot on your skin
And the cold wind
On that graveyard
Your life
Full of trinkets you don’t need
But can’t throw away
A box
Where every button or a piece of thread
Might be needed
To stitch it all together.

My Day 5 NaPoWriMo poem and the prompt is taken from the April PAD Day 5 challenge (write a plus poem). I got stuck and almost didn't write this one, so I played some sad music in the background, closed my eyes and started typing. Then I just kept adding stuff.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Day 4 - Hold that darkness

Sad Bear cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by lintmachine: http://flickr.com/photos/lintmachine/3652702115/

Two short poems today. The first one is for the PAD Challenge:

Hold That Darkness

Not sleeping
Curled up 
As long as the darkness remains
On my eyelids.

Shakεspεare▲Dεrrıda dıalεmmatics . . cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by jef safi \ 'pictosophizing: http://flickr.com/photos/jef_safi/2931277932/

The second one is an answer to the Day 4 NaPoWriMo prompt:

Well I Was in the Neighbourhood

Well I was in the neighbourhood
So I decided to drop by
So I decided to dig a hole
In your rose garden
So I decided to write my name
On your garage door
So I decided to burn your treehouse
On my bonfire
So I decided to give your bed
To my goats.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

I Don't Want You to Read My Poetry

The Hole
cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by Stuck in Customs: http://flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/2539913076/

I don’t want you
To read
My poetry.
Stop searching my room.
I will not tell you
Where my poetry is hidden.
You will never find
The loose floorboard,
The buried treasure,
I don’t want your meddling fingers
In that box.
My room is full
Of beautiful china figurines,
Serene waterfalls,
The sound of dolphins in the background.
This is who I am,
Smiling and composed.
Don’t you dare ask me 
Where my poetry is.

This is my NaPoWriMo Day 3 poem. I used the 2013 April PAD Day 3 prompt (write a tentative poem).

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Demotivational Quotes

cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by .faramarz: http://flickr.com/photos/fhashemi/97033289/

My NaPoWriMo Day 2 challenge - tell a lie. This is a found poem and what I did was take a bunch of lovely motivational quotes, take the words out of their context, mix them up and create something dark and pessimistic (still trying to participate in the PAD challenge as well and to combine the two daily prompts into one poem). I admit, it was a mean thing to do and it is a mean little poem.

Be miserable.
With the new day comes
Someone else’s plan.
Keep going.
I don’t believe
You can dream it.
Optimism is the faith, 
The will to win.
Always continue the climb.
Be kind
If you’re going through hell.
Even if you fall on your face,
Eat them for breakfast.
After a storm comes
Not much.
Too old.
Do you want to know
Who you are?
Learn from the past,
Expect problems, 
Always do your best.
Act as if what you do
Makes a difference,
Reach the end of your rope.
The day runs you.
It does.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Day 1: The Guest

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by Kevin Conor Keller: http://flickr.com/photos/conorkeller/4431443614/

His shirt.
His face, smiling,
His cheeks, dimpled,
Covered in soot.
He has no jacket.
Nobody heard him
When he walked in.
Now he sits down quietly
At the table opposite the counter.
He can’t be more than ten.
He shivers slightly,
Then corrects his posture
And puts a cheeky grin on.
He is quite handsome,
Curly hair, and those dimples.
He never takes his eyes off
The barista.
She stares at the floor
As she brings him
A chocolate muffin
And something steaming
In a cup.
They don’t speak,
They have done this
Many times before.
He sits there,
Invisible to everyone,
His manners impeccable
As he eats.
Once finished,
He walks outside
And a gust of wind
Enters the room
Bringing with it
The chill of
A December morning.

This is my post for NaPoWriMo Day 1 (a poem that has the same first line as another poem) and for 2013 April PAD challenge (write a poem about a new arrival). Two birds with one stone. Hope I can keep this up - a poem a day.