Sweepstakes
He was a silent man.
He stayed upstairs, typing unceasingly
and during dinner, mumbled accusingly
nothing ever finished
That evening he noticed,
saw his child sitting in the distance
alone, he crossed the field
He teased; they played,
among the blades of several hills,
a thousand times they rolled,
vibrating
He laughed; they roared
Disney visions, collaborating
goose-bumps; torching recollections.
He taught; they practiced
hundreds, of air pockets among them
they flew like ravens
They went home, and thereafter
He was a silent man;
his child unspoken.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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