Reading with Rex – Poem

 

The cold winter air hits my skin

Though I’ve been outside for so long

That I barely can even feel it anymore.

The shadow of the statue above me

Is shading the book in my lap.

 

Despite the fact that the lights are

Blinding me each and every time I look up.

I’m content as I lean against the cold material,

I don’t even know what he’s made of.

 

All I know is that my voice is echoing

In the empty night,

The only one to hear me is Rex,

The statue who listens to me read.

 

I’m not sure why I feel content,

Maybe it’s the air that I can’t even feel.

Perhaps even the book in my lap

Or my voice as I am overly aware of it.

 

It’s not my bed that I feel most at home

Not even that house I barely know

But moments like these,

When Rex is the only one to hear

My thoughts, it’s almost as though he is my family.

 

Despite the fact that you can walk passed the colorful wall,

Through the alleyway between the buildings,

And directly in front to the building that I call my room.

It is not my home, despite everything.

Instead it is a spot underneath the statue,

Being protected by his strength

And invisible to all those who do not listen to his roar.

Advertisements