Childhood on hangers

I could see your yellow house
from the car window.

A soft rain falling
silent as tears.

Of all my clothes
I'd left hanging in the bedroom
there were only two pieces left.
The others where gone.

The two dresses
I was wearing as a child
on steel hangers
at the far right
of the long closet rod
that went from wall to the bed
bed that was now distraught.

No sheets.
the beautiful bed spread
I'd bought
was tossed on the floor
at the end of the bed.




Poetry by Onwards
Read 511 times
Written on 2011-06-13 at 05:51

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


countryfog
"Sunt lacrimae rerum" - there are tears in things. You find in ordinary moments what is extraordinary, things that mean more than the surface of their parts, a simplicity and sensitivity that reveal the stories that things have to tell. You don't need similes and metaphors, what you say isn't "like" anything, it just "is".
2011-06-13