[elmiira]: 502.My poems.Runways of moon

Runways of moon and you

I wrote a word
on every hour
I spent
next to one gray wall,
next to
one dead picture.

I went and collected
some wildwoods earth,
and planted
in a flowerpot
those long ago withered poppies
from your backyard.
Withal
I peeked your black window,
those panes broken by time.

I gazed at the picture
one hour every day,
just as blank
as a silhouette
of a shut gate
in the darkness of a winternight.
There were flowers next to the picture.

I wrote up a line every day,
made myself
a sad poem
about wet pages,
slippery floors,
about runways of the moon
beyond the clouds.
About you.