My son bends down and touches my feet.
A blessing in disguise.
There is water in his eye.
A marching order that didn’t stop.
A haunted night.
Ghosts then appear through the window.
A shade of a colour.
There is a little piece of a cloth.
Copyright © Rajesh Sharma | Year Posted 2005
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment