No Thoughts of Love
Deep and blue
The morning
Is a summer masterpiece
But not to him,
His days are black and alone
Lying
On the couch
By a screeching tv
As his hand
More feeble today
Feels for the wine bottle
Knowing
Through the fog of it all
The decades
Had hardened his heart
Into a premature tombstone
Where no thoughts of love
Could slip past the armed guards
Of ancestral ghosts.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
