Kensington
Years of silence I can't recall
Tears I pant on the scrawled wall
Clothes worn in an open cell
Souls torn, drowning in smitten well
Costumes worn by zombies
Moving as mannequins, not gnomes
Legumes not grown as beans or chickpeas
Roving pass skull watchers of spumes
My heart beating slow, recurring
My voice bleating low, murmuring...
Your soothing eyes I can't forget
Looking into my eyes of regret
Your hands you stretch I can't reach
To cleanse my body and bleach
Creeds of lore I can comprehend, not detest
Breeds and condescend at my weakest
Your soft hair I wanted to smell and comb
Your touch I can sense, I goad that aplomb
I will always remember you as always
On this avenue you watch over me sideways
Each day I walk barefooted without wellington
Your footprints you leave on Kensington...
Copyright © Clifford Villalon | Year Posted 2023
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