Palm tree beach

[Semicircle]

Words fall to the floor;
you smile and leave, coyly.



Flicking the glass,
water ripples.



Whispering your name 
to the moon.  

  Words fall to the floor;
you smile and leave coyly,
whisked away into the infinite.


Water up to the rim.
Flicking the glass,
it ripples.


Campfires and bags of rice,
whispering your name 
to the moon;
our lines aren’t parallel-
I’ll see you soon.[color=#000000][font=Arial][size=medium]

 

[rowens]

People never go anywhere in your poems. That's another something you could go with. The settings seem to change, the people seem to leave, but they don't. Even when they do.

Is that a comment fit?

[Mark A Becker]

Words fall to the floor;
you smile and leave, coyly.

Flicking the glass,
water ripples.

Whispering your name 
to the moon.

 

No comment, really, just some subtraction and rearrangement...

[Semicircle]

People never go anywhere in your poems. That's another something you could go with. The settings seem to change, the people seem to leave, but they don't. Even when they do.

Is that a comment fit?

I never considered that, your little observations are very helpful.

Thanks Rowens and Mark