Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derision
outside my window:
Play louder.
You will not succeed. I am
bound more to my sentences
the more you batter at me
to follow you.
And the wind,
as before, fingers perfectly
its derisive music.
January
William Carlos Williams
(2)
Poem topics: music, running, wind, play, succeed, follow, bound, window, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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