On top of a towel that weeps
he sneaks a swift peak
attempting to read the good life,
but through his phony black shades
the sun offers no aid
as it shines on his gray wooden scalp,
implying that this day
with it's magnificent rays
will be no more than a transient act.
And to a fairgrounds loose rhyme
she runs around in time
chasing their child's last breath.
"But then why was it only
when the waves drew in their volley
that they found his red shoes in the sand?"
Well this suggested to me
that they had wished him away
with their cold black backs to the coast.
And now I hear you say:
"Did it really happen that way?"
Yes, I saw him rolling around in the sand.
-
Author:
3lliS (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 10th, 2017 03:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments2
Great write
thanks tony!
Welcome
Very good
much appreciated 🙂
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.