fly (Remove filter)
Time and Windows
This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.
Time and Windows
If the past is a tattered old book,
then why am I a ghost
at my mother's window,
so clear I can sense her mystery,
and her brown eyes, so alive?
Look, I can fly to her
through the high windows
of my memory
until I'm so close that she disappears,
and the curtain flutters silently.
A...
Friday 29th December 2017 10:44 am
Recent Comments
Manish Singh Rajput on Amnesia
1 hour ago
rob1967able on Colony 2B
2 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on Enhancings
8 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on Cinematic Dream
8 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Fields of Avalon (pt 2 & 3)
8 hours ago
keith jeffries on Levelling Up - the undeserving poor
8 hours ago
R A Porter on The Eternal Flame
8 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on evensong
11 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Amnesia
11 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on My Perfect View (unofficial competition)
11 hours ago