But where’s mom and dad? She asked.
Don’t grieve their charcoaled faces,
Your tears flow down in endless traces
At those lifeless eyes looking back at nowhere but places.
Before you even said your goodbyes and picked up your cases,
Look up at the sky and smile at their gazes,
Heaven doors are opening for them, everything erases.
This entry was posted on Monday, July 31st, 2006 at 6:33 pm and is filed under Literature is not dead, Politics makes me sick. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
July 31st, 2006 at 9:22 pm
me praises
August 1st, 2006 at 8:06 am
very nice
August 7th, 2006 at 11:19 am
Thanks, I feel like a poet.