Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

sonnet 1

I never looked at her quite like that, until the second I let her go.
The coffee’s aroma filled the air as she exited.
Cars glided past me on the rain-soaked street outside of the window.

A yellow umbrella was left next to her chair unattended.
An opportunity, it seemed.
The air smelled like lightning, thunder cracked its whip.
The storm of the century, but that was a lie, it was deemed.

The yellow umbrella lay prone next to the table, the view outside was a blur.
She was outside, hiding from the rain under a novel, trying to hail a cab.
The coffee grew tepid as I stared at the hazy window; at her.
I ran out into the unceasing rain with the umbrella, on an impulse I could not nab.

A shout of her name, but the taxicab’s door shut with a clack.
I never looked at her quite like that, until the instance she looked back.

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6 Comments on “sonnet 1”

  1. christine says:

    so, i wonder if this is a real story or a dream or a thought.
    watever it is.. quite puzzling.

  2. diana says:

    niceee,
    & i agree with christine, puzzling indeeeddd

  3. […] de soneto – super fofo, por sinal — feita por um amigo meu. Mas é a tradução (texto original aqui) do texto que está lá no blog em inglês que eu participo, o This Space Intentionally Left Blank. […]

  4. zdrav says:

    what was her name

  5. […] sonnet 1] Tagged with: less than three, sonnet « The Devil from Alaska When there is […]


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