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Open Poetry #45
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Dreaming Red
| Open Poetry #45 |
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Dreaming Red |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
He couldnÕt feel the heat From the strays of bullets Coming from the back door Right through his wool sweater. The cold said hello; His hair was black like his jacket And he stood like a waiter Standing tall as a homeless man would during the cold. The guns flared beneath their voices, Crying for the money, the hustle, the chance to be someone. Three men leaning over one another other, With the cars lined up in the alleyway. The money was hard, The suitcase was gripped, And a man without a cause, Lying in a pool of blood Next to it all. |
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| © Copyright 2009 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Enjoyed...James |
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N|D|N|C|Lost-Poet Member
since 2009-07-30
Posts 360New Orleans |
I enjoyed this as well. Beautifully captured. |
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
Nice story! |
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