her thoughts
in the garage
in the trunk
of the car
a spare tire
and roadside
flares she returns
to the present
moment as the
water slowly
comes to boil
soon she will
be on the road
to see her
father
descending
into dementia
slowly bit by
bit and the
light goes out
the bulb has
burned out so
in the dim
morning glow
she pours the
water over the
grounds
coffee collects
drip by drip
the snow
softly gently
falling piling
up her mind
in the
trunk of the
car a spare
tire and
roadside flares
-
Author:
Vipassana (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2025 01:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Wow! The metaphor slowly evolves in this poem until at the end it has become one with thoughts, scene, person a masterful work a fave
Beautiful with lovely sentiment. Great write. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for you comments.
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