Poems, commentaries on poems and on poetry.
Small children move through hallways the color of old snowfall,
Mouths hidden, they cast no shadow under clean fluorescent lights
Crackling as though they’d break. Slow, they walk together, apart.
These are strange times. Some of us have chosen to leave our faces at home.
lovely.I wish we as adults could give our children a better world than the kind they inherited from us.
These are strange times. Some of us have chosen to leave our faces at home.
ReplyDeletelovely.I wish we as adults could give our children a better world than the kind they inherited from us.
ReplyDelete