Open Poetry #42 |
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little boys ride |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
His two small feet, Shoveling side by side As the rocks in front Scattered across the grey scented pavement. His arms slid along His red and blue flannel shirt, With the middle button slowly peeling, Sieged under the parks rough dirt. The warm sky dimmed, His mother sailed his name Through the eastern streets, As his curls waved with her echo. His skin was rigid, His hands tinted, And beneath his breath He looked up through the two faced window, His mothers blonde locks Cascading with the chicken pot steam, Her rose peddled cheeks ran along The cream slimmed kitchen, To a belly softened Beneath his creased flannel shirt. |
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© Copyright 2008 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
Seoulair Senior Member
since 2008-03-27
Posts 807Seoul S.Korea |
This is a very lovely poem. |
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Midnitesun![]()
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
"His mother sailed his name Through the eastern streets, As his curls waved with her echo." a beautiful write, especially the above line. |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Thanks for the responses, happy both of you enjoyed. -Tomer |
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