If Your Face Doesn't FitA Poem by Chris Shaw
In an ice splintered twilight
Sits dark in the gloam' A bird on a wire The others have flown. Perhaps they've migrated And left it alone? So I think of the city And its burnished, bright lights And the plight of the homeless, Forgotten at night, As they huddle for cover And keep out of sight. I ponder on faces Of the Mothers who birthed, the ones who have nothing on this cold planet Earth, And the lesson I've learned, If your face doesn't fit, your prospects and future Are worthless as spit.
© 2018 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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53 Reviews Added on April 17, 2018 Last Updated on April 17, 2018 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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