Her Favourite Pink Teddy
Having decided that she was no less then this, a deceiving
Wicked witch so I happily hurried along her belongings ¿
Exiting stage left throwing them all into the garbage bin
Except for her heart's favourite pink teddy while listening
Unto Bruce Springstein's anthem song, Born In The USA..
Quite aware of these metaphors scattered about a rent
Canvas his bluebird complaining to a solitary crow gazing
Peering into the green grass hidden; trying to make it's way
Imagining as her Statue of Liberty and thinking that Diane
Beholds their gray grim reapers, wearing righteous masks ?
Children weeping mothers bewildered a man with his sickle
Lifted high proclaiming these balancing scales holy castles...
Chasing the we understand given to us; serving your demons.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment