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Bertie Kraus Poem
Her eyes,
green emerald gems
gleam with tears
reflecting loss and pain,
tell a silent story,
stored within
the empty caverns
of her mind.
Hair,
of auburn curls
flowing freely.
Her angelic, pale face
hiding the tragic scars
of yesterday's forever embrace.
Only fragments of intelligence
rules her mind, left scorched
by losses only love could bring.
Her mind repeating,
my only baby,
my dear sweet child,
rests eternally in peace.
Dresses of imported labels
and fabrics dwell in her wardrobe
unscathed by wear and tear.
Favoring T shirts, tank tops,
and bare feet her typical atire.
Some
describe her as eloquently eccentric.
She's stricken
with an attitude of not giving a damn,
the glamour of living lost somewhere
in between life and death.
Her voice
softly screeches like fingernails
lightly raking a chalkboard.
Still, she insists on singing.
With guitar in hand strumming,
she's riveted
to singing the blues,
trying to weep the pain away.
...My Baby's gone...
Copyright © Bertie Kraus | Year Posted 2005
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