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| Open Poetry #46 |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
She was too skinny for tonight, her cheeks so pale, winter thought she was born in the heart of December. Her arms sat by her side, fingers so frail, her eyes wandered around the room, picturing a day, where she was young, again. The table felt her sorrow, letting her fingers play with the chin of itÕs white under clothe. her thoughts were scattered. she felt the wind had betrayed her, betrayed the way her thin body could support her broad shoulders and slender neck. It was the same wind she remembered as a child, the same wind she woke to when she use to smile. She missed that feeling, her hair use to slightly fold across her forehead, like her mothers blonde hair, blushing the kitchen walls, watching her glide until her arms reached her mothers side. she wanted it so badly, but she sat there, passively, wishing her mother would say something, anything but, she never did. so she decided to run, until the soil reminded her, she wouldnÕt be going very far. |
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| © Copyright 2010 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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mikeandrew Member
since 2010-11-18
Posts 198 |
Nice poem good job. |
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Prats Member
since 2010-12-16
Posts 74 |
wow... nice poem... i liked reading it...  Heaven is not that place where you go when you die... it's that time in your life when you actually feel ALIVE!!! |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Thanks for the kind remarks..happy you two enjoyed Cheers |
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