A Year Older and Looking Out From the Nursing Home Window

Before it brings the storm
Wind scattering plastic bags,
Skittering across the ground
Like broken birthday balloons . . .

A can is lifting and rolling,
Tinny hollow dents of sound
As if kicked by someone hiding,
Perhaps the child once you . . .

Maple wings flying and falling,
Pine cones fluttering like birds,
Leaves stumble and then run
And you're walking on trees . . .

Waiting to play in the rain again.




Poetry by countryfog
Read 799 times
Written on 2011-04-28 at 19:12

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melanie sue
I love this.
2011-06-01


Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
A longing for what once was

Well written

Stan
2011-05-02


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Ah memories and imagery. I would hate to loose these. Obviously you haven't. Well done.

Joe
2011-04-30



And how the mind can be free even when everything else isn't what it used to be. My greatest fear is to lose imagination and the mental faculties, else I have no fear of nursing homes.
2011-04-29


John Ashleigh
Serenity folded into time whistling by. The imagery is animated with resplendent rendering. This is brilliant, countryfog. Thankyou for sharing. *bookmarked*.

Regards,
John.
2011-04-28