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Open Poetry #48

grandfathers past

Tomer
Senior Member

since 2002-06-28

Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2012-09-25 03:24 PM

He use to hear her whisper
the red roads of Summer peak bay
where the youngest of old
raised their wrinkles to the sear of the sun

To the timbers of the woods
that crippled the boys of the southern ride
where their shorts rode past their thighs
amongst a crimson tide

Oliver,
the soft spoken horse
of the deep north
with his idle pose
like the changing lanes
of the mediterranean sea

His whispers
from his grandfather
the man who took his hands
under a small canal off the mediterranean coast
and spoke to him with his low, baritone voice

To grant him the light to see the coast
as a young child,
swinging in the hammock
alongside his grandfathers porch.

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