Details |
Abe Froman Poem
Engineer the heart
The estate of my pity
Pupil of sorrow
Copyright © Abe Froman | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Abe Froman Poem
A cry in the corner
Can I warn her?
No! the threshold has been shattered;
A world of sensation slowly recedes
And now nothing.
A lone walker on the street,
The street we used to walk on
How long ago? Oh, not long
But weeks become months, years
And as we are confined we evaporate.
Times of joy, times of play
For our security these all pause.
And as we spy outside
We commemorate what has been lost,
Retreating until the joy returns.
Copyright © Abe Froman | Year Posted 2020
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