She’s sitting <br />cross-legged on the floor <br />plucking the fluff <br />from a deep pile carpet <br />too preoccupied with sadness <br />to find the time <br />for body language <br />for me to read <br /> <br />Her hair hangs in loosened ribbons <br />hiding the frame of her face <br />as her fingers drag her nails <br />across the grain <br /> <br />and my emotions <br /> <br />and I can’t reach her <br />through the noise <br />of all these thoughts <br />because someone’s tied my hands <br />behind my guilt<br /><br />Sheila Knowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/deep-pile/
