Get Your Premium Membership

The Picture

he keeps a picture
of his dead wife
in the top pocket
of the starch white
prison shirt he wears.

her parents,
ever crying,
often sit
on wooden pews
in the small town's church;
the smell of
candle wax 
surrounding them.

as for he,
he'll keep 
that snapshot
in that shirt
for another 
sixteen years.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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

Date: 4/2/2019 1:34:00 PM
So many questions I have, wondering at the wonderment of this poem.
Login to Reply

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry