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Open Poetry #47
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his cries next to the doorstep
| Open Poetry #47 |
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his cries next to the doorstep |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
He was wearing that blue button down shirt The one she use to iron When the morning Felt her skirt like the cotton It seized from the farms On the bridges That surrounded their home. He combed his hair, Parted it slightly Just enough that the hairs Wouldn't mind if he stared At them over and over again He stared into the mirror With those soft eyes Oh he stared With his brother in mind He kept hearing the voices The loud cries from his brother's room Those cries that left the sullen wind Leaving its signature with the dark moon He cried on his footsteps The very ones he use to remember His wife and him, together pieced like the far fruit of the south With its oranges and bananas ripening with the suns bright gaze. He remembered those tears, That touch of life that Stayed locked away At the shed beneath kips bay Oh, how time flies Rivers and rides Suns and tides Please donÕt ever let go of the way he cries. [This message has been edited by Tomer (04-29-2011 07:24 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2011 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Fine writing...James |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Appreciate the support, James..Have a nice weekend Cheers |
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