Always July
where the music of the woodland depths
unfurled between his wake ~
and the dandelions carpet the lawn
beneath childhood shoes
he no longer keeps beside the bed.
He releases his breath to Nature
parched and dry
with withered tufts of yesteryear
scattered by grown-up feet
and those same sounds
still go past him
in that built up house where only weeds survive.
Author notes
picture prompt
A contest entry
- picture contest by serenity silvermoon.
455 points, ended March 3, 7 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I loved this too!
Plus, the child like innocence of it is wonderfully done!!! I can't belive how wonderfully you write.
I think I'm a little jealous
Hahaha...great job!!!
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