bad posture
clouds reach down to hang heavy on my shoulders
head bent eyes to the ground like I'm looking for spare change
mouths move but I can't hear the words they are saying
cars drive by in slow motion
I wonder
How many times have I been here
how many times have I felt this and cursed the sun for being selective
how many times have I risked a dream
shadow boxing with ghosts turning old photographs 3d
I didn't find music until I was seventeen
I used to fantasize my father was a blues musician and he told me stories
I used to wish that I was born in another time and place
"when I was just a little child- I never saw the sun"
hot tea and ginger candy to soothe the orphan I once was
holding his hand and taking a long walk back down the bombed allies he's come from
he points his finger at the wreckage
I cry and hold my head up for him
you read my mind, i've been wanting to add poetry and words to this blog for a while. thanks for the inspiration.
ReplyDeleteperfect, sad, beautiful little poem for little joey.