quatrain revised #2

26 11 2007


The glass is weathered yet untouched
by hands; eyes feel all the coldness.
Words become harsher as I clutch
wooden pane and try to relax.
Times of happiness and love
seem never to unfold again,
I am left waiting for the dove
to make its mark on all humans.

As a child, I am so young
my parents’ fury and dismay
hits my soul constantly sung
as the leaves outside decay.

Sounds of anger and betrayal
echo along my neck, I grasp
the pane with strength, my all.
The last sound I heard was a gasp.
Thundering yells shake my small mass
my mind stripped of innocence.
Outside the wind carries in its clutch
a leaf letting it fly aimless.



One response to “quatrain revised #2”

26 11 2007
Poetics by Praxis » quatrain revised #2 (19:07:02) :

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