Lighting from bench to bench is her plight,
Slinging two bags; one canvas and one clear:
White gloves, gray sweatpants and a blue cashmere
Sweater; a woolen knit red skullcap bright;
Rubber tennis shoes that are black and white.
Tight grip on pink fabric handles; bags dear.
While home and family remains unclear,
Hide sunglass dark tired eyes from the bright light.
Could it be that her one prized possession,
String tied, it’s tucked inside just one small box?
Opened to the first person to question
The glory of her day; make time for talks?
Boxed baby pics of priceless expression
Shared with anyone who asked where she walks.
- Gary Edward Geraci
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Author:
Gary Edward Geraci (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2017 15:10
- Comment from author about the poem: I see this person from time to time outside my office window. I have yet to go outside and greet her. I’ve only imagined what this would be like. My poem is written in an 8-6 Sonnet (abbaabba cdcdcd).
- Category: Love
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments1
I enjoyed the rhythm and rhyme scheme on this one, nicely illustrated too, well done
Thank you for your read and comment! I love writing to these old traditional forms (8-6 Sonnet). I’m happy to hear the image is available; I haven’t been able to confirm that it shows until now. Peace and blessings my friend.
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