I met the tired gaze of a lost princess
in the last days of november .
Princess on steps of a palace
inhabited by ghosts of the past .
Dreams sailing through the sewers
with rats as stewards .
You,november girl, your old tub
is called nowhere,but lust of the eyes...
Diva so pretty in this gutter !
Girl of a thousand life in one scene....
Tending to the blind the dead branches
of your fingers...
The good Santa passed by without seeing you,
a big Havana and a fruity Armagnac
waiting for him in front of the fireplace
in some neighborhood
where the little prince don't look tired ...
I was too much in a hurry to stop ,
but hearing the castaways mute mayday,
spring is always so far away...
And the Starbuck opposite won't shed
a tear of coffee in your empty despair...
Late november the sun's kiss is cold,
you're like an ice princess
sitting on the station steps
where travel doesn't await you...
----------------------------------
So please,friend, if you recognize
a lost street princess, put a few pennies
in her empty mug or a drop of coffee.
God won't give it back to you ,
but you 'll be entitled to the spark of a look !
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 20th, 2024 08:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments3
Excellent write
Thank you dear friend !
You're welcome
"The good Santa passed by without seeing you..."
A social and emotional poem that reveals the tragedy of forgotten and rejected people. Penetrating images.
Great writing!
According to mom it was the saint wallet passing by...
Santa passing by is better than what my father used to tell us. He said he would take us to the graveyard and show us where Santa was buried.
Drastic pedagogy !
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