How Not To Mourn A SonA Poem by Leslie PhilibertI sleep badly, and wrote this last nightHe is, he is ; The failure not to look Into his room, his sheets Cold as milk. Dust creeps. Not to stop the mantra lips Of heisdeadnichtwahr? The hunt for torn film, For cold winds and dried fruit. Perhaps the glimpse around the Next corner, he is, he is.
© 2018 Leslie PhilibertReviews
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4 Reviews Added on October 3, 2018 Last Updated on October 3, 2018 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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