Restless nigths
when letters become words and words become poemsArchive for Red Sofa
Red Sofa
This red sofa fill me with anger.
This red sofa fill me with joy.
This red sofa fill me with memories.
Good and bad.
This red sofa fill me with want.
This red sofa fill me with you.
It dosen’t matter that I loose this sofa,
but that I lost you.
No more you and me
- or this red sofa.
© 1999