Tell Me
Tell me, tell me, tell me what hides behind my skin—
Like whatever's in a window when you're in a room
Watching the curtains flutter in the wind.
Tell me how the weather is
When you're looking outside to somewhere open
With cloudless skies and blue space covering.
Tell me if it's warm where you come from
Or where my thoughts of you come from,
And tell me if the sun drapes over the horizon
And deep into the orange, dusted canyons.
Tell me if there is something
Like a garden, blooming with the spring
Of my youth, next to something sort of like an ocean,
Or something relaxing, with the waves parting,
And something I like, though I don't know what that is.
Tell me about the white nowhere
That percolates through my pores and from my dreams,
And between the no language of tongue speak,
And blank canvases and whatever I wondered
Would remind me of you.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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