In memory of my father's death, September 30, 2003.Maybe it's just my own morbidity, but lately dad's been in my thoughts heavily-memories of his last days will always haunt me. Poetry helps vent these emotions still strirring inside.
More Than A Thumb Squeeze
The bare bones of ambition
bloomed briefly
before withering into
a vase of aphasia.
Our gazes locked in the last moment
of recognition revealed in a thumb squeeze
as he latched on before he was gone.
Oh, how your daughter still waters
your crumbled dry stem,
composting the leaves
with her
grieving green thumb
gone numb.
Poetry by melanie sue
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Written on 2009-12-06 at 21:00
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