Poetry Blog by T J K Conlin

Desert Rain

entry picture

Sandals,

grey joggers and a shabby top.

Pale faced with hair the colour of

caramel. What pose was this body

before being suddenly woken?

His thin frame is still pushing through.

Shivering; the hairs on his arms 

anticipating the alarm of what is to come.

 

‘Sit down’, I said,

solemnly pointing with my head.

‘Your Mum needs to tell you something.

Best prepare you...

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