it is bad to
stare at the
sun too long,
the basket of
walnuts at your
feet that you
probably won't
eat until autumn.
his package came
in the mail-
the one that
said he was
fine and
not to cry over
spilt milk.
but the guilt
gets you
every time.
this is why the
mornings are
your favorite,
you slip out
the backdoor
like in your
younger years
when the world
wasn't so
lethargic and
you could still
hear "marco!" in
the distance.
but now the
trees only bear
fruit and
other useless
items and the
branches are
barely strong enough
to hold your
weight.
you wave at
every plane that
pass through
your filthy
cheap sunglasses
and you keep
screaming his
name long
after it's gone.
Author notes
was inspired
A contest entry
- flesh canoe by the atlantic.
1000 points, ended July 11, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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love the feeling as well, glad you were inspired thanks for entering! best of luck. sollid imagery for sure.
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man this is incredible.
i love the feeling of it.
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