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Open Poetry #48
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Tomer
Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2013-06-29 04:12 PM



She had her soft neck
against the walls fallen white side
where the hallways used
to show her a small note
her mother left her
when she was only three years old.

It was December winter.
The cars came through
with her cheeks like pitted olives
pinned between the rose garden
and the tiles of the roofs spanish stare

her soft neck
she spoke with her eyes towards the soft western wind
until the heart of her sigh
came under the long tunnels bridge
and she made her eyes fall for a soft ride
towards the small fire
that used to catch her hand
with her stockings slowly coming off
like the fall of the bread crumbs floor

On the Western front
beside her home
where the wrinkles of her bed sheets
curled alongside her that night.

© Copyright 2013 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved
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