Random Acts of Poetry

Random Acts of Poetry

Fizz

As I sat there, glass in hand,
wandering the trails of my mind,

I woke to find myself
staring out the window

indifferently at weeds,
a broken fence, a rusty shed,

a carpet of grass with birds
pecking for worms.

I wanted something different,
something missing, an old desire.

It was a hard but loving thing,
with a warm scent.

Kind to me whatever my faults.
Always there, but now invisible,

I supposed.
Turning the glass,

I saw a million tiny globes,
hinting at other worlds.