29 October 2012
A warm evening. Close bodies in the compact stadium. Multitudes under the awe of the country singer crooning his past hits. Cold beer swirling in sponsor screened plastic cups.
The cement under my feet has warmed. The arena seats have become comforting, welcoming. Laughs echo off of the concrete pillars.
In front, a cluster of fans have started swaying back and forth in tune to the guitar. An exhausted infant finally loses to the enveloping sleep. He curls up under the family picnic blanket next to me.
The sun left the horizon a while ago. Now twinkling stars are sprinkled against the navy blue.
I too, curl up.
Drift away in the warm evening.
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This is not one of my crazy poems (as you have probably guessed) but an experimentation of descriptive language :) Comments would be appreciated.
My Perfect Evening? • Opuss № I