Patrick Cornwall Poet I do not know?

In a Storage 1

My life in a storage shed.

Paid for by the month.
I see you there in those horrible  boxes.
Kneading the dough.
Our bed no longer holds us.
Dust formed a posse and waits.
Do you think of me?
When I cook I think of those days.
I see Nonna shelling fava beans.
Dipping bread in olive oil.

Ti taglierò la lingua (she would say after a tease.)
Teramo where i was alive.
I see the Domo and those friends.
If I close my eyes I can walk there.
You took the best of me but I have the dishes.

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Mark Ackerson April 9, 2015 at 4:19 PM I love the last line, very powerful, it evokes multiple feelings.

Poet Destroyer A April 5, 2015 at 4:08 PM PATRICK, Dropped by to say hi and congratulate you on having your poem selected by Soup's Administration. This is a wonderful poem to have featured on the homepage. Have yourself a Happy Easter ~Always & Forever~ LINDA

Joann Grisetti May 13, 2012 at 12:05 PM Thanks for sharing your poem about Italia. i was there in the summer of 1969 (Roma) and watch ed the moon landing on TV. We could hear Walter Cronkite's voice behind the Italian voice.