Poetry is that you?

shirt in the wind


it was hanging with the others, wet,

it was hanging with them but singled out, dripping.


it was hanging in the wind.


cold air brushing through its arms,

through its body as well.


the shirt had a collar,

which got yellow over the years.

it never got bleached.

it only got stiched.

week after week, wet and dripping.




It was hanging with the others,

being with them

in the wind.

The fresh air brushing through the arms and

through the body.


The collar of the shirt, just repaired and as good as new to

see the world again

and again.

Year after


Marie S
Creative freakled enthusiast