SONNET VIIIA Poem by Father Mojoold one i never published...The sun hid its face like a guilty child, And the night--it sliced sharp like a razor. Jennifer smiled and I knew she was wild, And my words just did not seem to phase her. She had a way that made life seem okay; As her smile made despondency scatter. She could make all of my cares go away As she told me “It just doesn’t matter.” So what can I say about Jennifer? There are no words that do not sound like “fluff.” Even beauty could not compete with her, Because beauty is not pretty enough. And she waltzes like an autumn’s mourning Like a requiem without a warning . . .
© 2012 Father Mojo |
StatsAuthorFather MojoCarneys Point, NJAbout"I gave food to the poor and they called me a saint; I asked why the poor have no food and they called me a communist. --- Dom Helder Camara" LoveMyProfile.com more..Writing
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