In the GenesA Poem by Chris Shaw
thick rust gathers
on a padlock where English oak holds memories of you confined to corridors of my mind in a Pandora's box firmly closed barbed wire heart those paper cut sharps with a sticks and stones story no glory there mid the dust of us yet your velvet brown eyes and long lashes still melt my butter butterfly flutter in familiar features three young faces look at me inherited genes and I smile © 2019 Chris ShawFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
344 Views
21 Reviews Added on July 31, 2019 Last Updated on July 31, 2019 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
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|