Unfinished

Vipassana

 


Glide, loop, float
gulls on a
crisp breeze.

An elderly
man trudging 
with groceries
  
across the 
gray, cracked
pavement of

a defunct
shopping mall’s
parking lot.

Dim blue glow,
a clock—what 
this long in-

complete life
sees in the 
wondering dark.

Death, so close
to the mail-
box at noon.

Glide, loop, float
gulls on a
crisp breeze.

Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

✔ Receive the ebook in seconds ✔ 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    There is mort to this than meets the eye. The image is clear, the tone is set, this poem with its image and tone is the letter coming to that mailbox. Its message of death so close. Noon, mid day to be taken with only half half of it left. This poem leaves mixed feelings. Very nicely done



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.