No more poem.
no more convenient ear.
any crying out now
will have to be done to silence;
any reaching
will be reaching for open space.
and i understand
(or think i do)
and say 'time to move on'
but part of me stays locked up in the past.
and part wants to look around
for a flash of strawberry on black
and every spot of red that whizzes by
part of my eyes will follow.
but the rest of my eyes will be in front of me
and i'll wonder
did you need me?
or simply cherish a convenient ear?
© 1993 (Tulsa, OK)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent poem Mark there is always someone who will listen to us in times of need thnx for sharing