A Cornfield Friendship

You live in a room of a mansion
We've imagined between corn row; I live in mine.
There are no doors in our house. No windows.
We call loudly past the leaves of our walls
But don't wait to listen for an answer.
We're each wrapped up in our own visions.

We don't think of the harvesters,
Coming soon to tear down our house.
We can imagine the now,
And give no heed to the future.
Why should we? There'll be other games to play
When the snow sweeps the fallow field.

Right now, the warm breeze
Rustles the cornstalks
While we see our rooms
As we each imagine them,
And that's enough.
We race up and down our narrow rooms.

Breathless, I stop running.
You reach out,Conjure up a door,
And break the spell of dividing walls.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem