Come Sunday
With the rains set in
The art not painted
The stone still rock
The notes sleeping in
A guitar somewhere,
The words keep rolling
The thoughts still dancing
Under the moon
With you out there.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “The Fourth Book” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
8:51 PM March 29, 2014
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Is this poem about anticipation or separation or both? Held back to the last line it keeps its tautness like a guitar string. I wonder though if the removal of “the” in most lines might even improve it.
Cheers, Laurie Keim
hmmmm….