some sort of memories
Softjointed, boyfloppish
we slumped on the shadowside
boleshadowed soft grass
perfect hideout
grubby small hands opening
showing treasures to another
like: half-dead tadpoles
glittering aluminium foil,
matchbox filled with dead lobworms
We grew up
The willow died
she ran out of tears
as we lost the need
to cry beneath her
and the ability to be full
of either joy or sorrow
We never knew
that the willow didn't weep
for us but lived
only from our tears
as long as we
were small enough inside to be human
and could cry for life and death
leaning on the trunk
touching base with our inner anchor.
Now we are adrift
and the willow weeps no more.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 540 times
Written on 2007-07-03 at 07:43
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The weeping willow
Softjointed, boyfloppish
we slumped on the shadowside
boleshadowed soft grass
perfect hideout
grubby small hands opening
showing treasures to another
like: half-dead tadpoles
glittering aluminium foil,
matchbox filled with dead lobworms
We grew up
The willow died
she ran out of tears
as we lost the need
to cry beneath her
and the ability to be full
of either joy or sorrow
We never knew
that the willow didn't weep
for us but lived
only from our tears
as long as we
were small enough inside to be human
and could cry for life and death
leaning on the trunk
touching base with our inner anchor.
Now we are adrift
and the willow weeps no more.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 540 times
Written on 2007-07-03 at 07:43
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Rob Graber |
