He stumbled from a curb and fell into her
Victim eyes
So full of hope and promises.
Her voice
To his surprise,
He found those marbles, thunderstorms,
Those crumbling ‘cross the plains;
And answers, tho’ eluding him,
Were simply rearranged.
That pack slung ‘cross her shoulder,
Her eyes beneath a cap
Offered him some faint relief, some crutch to lean
In fact.
Author notes
Revised. Not right. Just revised.
Comments
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Ahh so many potential interpretations.. An undercover cop in the midst of a set up?
I like the partial visual.. not quiet clear but enough to draw a reader into creating there own interpretation..
Smiles, It has been a long time my friend -
This is the poetry I remember from you. The meaning mostly only clear to you and yet it touches those who read it in a way that has us reading again and again so wanting to feel it the way the you intended it to be felt.
Still...its always been my contention that poetry is a release for the poet. As such...it doesn't matter if anyone else "gets it" as long as it is felt by the author.
Nice to see another of yours...
M.
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well, its a good write... interesting and different in many ways. Hope you never get kicked to the curb lol. other than that... Im at a loss for words lol
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