| |
The sky is overcast this morning,
gray as the cat sleeping on the stoop,
and wrings itself out in a cold drizzle.
I walk bareheaded like a fool,
hands stuffed in quilted pockets,
daydreaming in the sudden autumn.
Her laughter trickled down, leaked into
my drear darkness, and brought me into the
sunlight with a start.
I see her now, honey hair blowing in the
cold wind, mittens red as her cheeks,
old tennies crunching through dry leaves.
I hear her now, singing for the sheer
joy, perfect pitch, loving every word,
and I sing with her.
I feel her now, warm breath on my neck, her
lips brushing my cheek, and her arms tight around
my shoulders. She was, maybe, ten.
And I know, I know--she was just a kid,
a here today gone tomorrow moment.
But I miss her.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|