Cold December

1 Comments

Tags:
  • Loss
  • ,
  • Death
  • ,
  • Sadness

    Cold December

    An early morning call,
    on a snowy december morning.
    he flew over the roads,
    to be Santa in the morning.
    He did not see the Icey bend,
    The car could not hold the pavement.
    The car a mangled wreck,
    no beating in his heart
     
    She picked up the phone,
    his voice on the other side.
    He said sorry he could not be there,
    he realy tried to make it.
    Give the kids kisses
    and remeber i loved you all so much.

    Confused and afraid
    she put the phone down
    at the door there was a knock
    two police officers waited to speak to her



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    BCP commented on Cold December

    06-27-2009

    Grey Eyes, been there also, sad but written with profound emotions. excellent poem. sincerely

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    greyeyes231’s Poems (15)

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