by Jeremy Street |
Categories:
baby, love, , literature,
Quitely closing again her cupboard; a slice of hope in tiny hands
Tiptoeing away, another cold as daunting day; embracing, their child
Dirty dish water his hummingbird hovers, then fly's away; creaking steps
Self-conscious humble heart's gazing at the knots, amid her shoe lace
Misfits, another's Nobel prize nirvana's nightingale, to one day write ? Passing
Abandonments shuttered house accursed these ghosts reside; inherent, as cellared
Time's literature and he tossing their pages torn into the pyre while she quoting rhymes....
Parturient pan'handling at pathos bus stop sterile, less love her infants: Stigmata's, loaf of bread.