She is sick
She holds the tomato
that I have given her
from the garden.
She brings it to her nose
and smells it.
She rubs the brown
flecks of dust dirt
off until it shines
and hands it back to me
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
September 7, 2026
Sometimes in the jangle of the day Are the words, I love you. But what is the truth? Being truthful? Or was it the moment I let you down ...
-
Last night we finally got wind of the new greeting card. It sounded like shrimp head or lunch pail. But those are things of profound sadness...
-
For A Few I am not a carpenter And this is not a religious poem So just forget your prejudices For a few. As I was saying I am not a carpent...
-
her backed dropped like apples through the bushels of the outdoors. I didn't have the skeleton for it but I walked up to her and tol...