My father answered the door in his dressing gown
The front lawn neatly mown, rocks in their place
The front lawn neatly mown, rocks in their place
His
mouth opened and words spilt out like milk
The lemon tree stood tall above its dropped fruit
The lemon tree stood tall above its dropped fruit
The fog in his eyes lurking there like memories
He smiled as if he knew he should recognise me
The garden missing once again this year
He led me to empty cups arranged on a table
what a moving poem... the line, 'His mouth opened and words spilt out like milk' is heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteThank you Efi.
DeleteVery stark Myron and dreamlike.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susan.
DeleteBeautiful understatement, which pierces with anguish.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rosemary.
DeleteSuch a picture thank you Myron
ReplyDeleteHi Jeffree Skewes. Thank you for reading it and for leaving a comment.
Deletedisturbing and brilliant
ReplyDeleteHi Robbie. Thanks for reading it and for leaving me with such wonderful adjectives.
Delete