Sunday Special: Room at the Top of The World

(c) Sean D. McCormick

The room at the top of the world
Stood alone where the grasses
Glowing under swirling stars
Caught the light from the swinging bulb
First red then blue as it came and went
The toast became cold
As time turned overhead
The operator couldn’t find a line
But I know you were thinking of me
You said so in your flowing hand
In the letter that never arrived

This poem is a special feature for the Picture Prompt Challenge at OneStopPoetry.


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