An afternoon at Tiffany’s
a three o’clock showing
a Sunday matinee
slid down low in her seat
buried in her baggy sweats
a tub of popcorn in her lap
a pad of paper lying near
along side a poets pen.
The movie begins
her reel spins
expressions play classic tunes
of form and style
up dos and red lips
blends of matching words
thoughts in rhyming flow
sways of sparkling bling
united in moving strings
mirrors of dancing wings
hanging off the balcony
on the second floor.
The words of ones own breath
can they be measuredby you or me?
what is good poetry?
a love of words....
exploding words
coating white paper
ending the show
posted for One Shot Wednesday week 32 at One Stop Poetry
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