Uncle skitter
never took many
sober breaths.
Lived in Hobo-Jungles
and grandpa’s daybed
if truth be fessed.
Could play the piano
and toss his voice
from place to place.
To me as a child
was amazing grace.
Deep in my aging bones,
a sweet gentle Hobo
found himself a home.
-
Author:
Jerry Reynolds (
Offline) - Published: January 7th, 2022 09:28
- Category: Love
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments3
Lovely poem Jerry. You've captured that feeling of reminiscence beautifully
Thanks, S.C.
Good write Jerry.
Thanks, Orchi,
Such wonderful memories Jerry.
Andy
Thanks, Andy
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