handprints pushed
into the dust
of a metal overhang,
shoulders touching
we sat in child's laughter
on a rough concrete wall,
feet against a '99
ford expedition.
just a shabby parking lot
of a numberless apartment
after the divorce
and before we grew apart.
haven't seen you in months
but sometimes i glimpse
your little handprints
buried beneath
distorted images
of an old friend.
Author notes
u n r a v e l e d
A contest entry
- locus. by landmark.
700 points, ended September 8, 11 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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wow i love what you wrote here; you took the contest's topic and twisted it into amazingness
i love the way you describe the old battered things in our lives that we don't always pay attention to, but they usually do mean more than we realize.
the description "numberless" for apartment was creative
"after the divorce
and before we grew apart. "
unique and well thought out! the last stanza sums it up well, too. good luck in the contest! -
excellent poem sharing a moment in time. wonderfully written.
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OMG
I cannot believe I have not run across you before...we have alot of friends in common
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