White Tents

Its along the row of houses

Standing proudly in the middle of the road

With both ends crowded

Cars aligned along every doorsteps

We sat with another stranger

Whom only he knew every one of us

But could not humor

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All I Want

I would leave the keys under the door mat

Sit in the sofa with the lights on

Till the midnight shows stopped

Talking, to myself

For I could imagine you walking

Through that door, my finger pointed

No matter how long it takes

We shall meet

Occasional

We all wait

For some certain moment to arrive

Mostly in the quiet

Early mornings, late night

A little afternoon off work

She may arrive late

Or he may have been pondering

Against a plain paper, pen on top

Waiting to be filled and yet

They don’t always pass by

But when they do, you will notice

Even if its just a silhouette

Or a sitting figure

They accompanied us through

Occasions, occasionally