The Checkered Jersey.

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Lost in your checkered jersey,

Brought back in thought,

And I’m once mislead again,

Seamlessly,

Your gravelling motives,

And plunge of distance,

The guttering of another wonderland,

Concrete in the mind once again,

Again, again,

No way to rid myself of you.

 

A draught wicked,

Seeping like cold winds,

And no way to grasp in arms,

A soul less tangible than butter,

I cry silent again,

Not for longing,

But in wonder,

And embraced in you,

Once again,

Buried in your checkered jersey.

Author's Note

Criticism is welcome :)

Reviews

[emmajoy]

The words flow but cry discreetly, that repeated checkered jersey, a memento of love, to love. You have a fine way with words, no criticisms to mention, just a nod at the way you put your thoughts, ' .. A draft wicked, ~ Seeping like cold winds, ~ And no way to grasp in arms, ~ A soul less tangible than butter, ' .. much appreciate those two last lines there. (Did you mean 'draught' perhaps tho?)

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

that last line grabbed me, buried in your checkered jersey, sends thoughts to my mind of a woman with her face buried in the jacket or shirt of the one she loves and misses. His very scent, makes her nerves tingle and her heart cry....wonderful piece.

[Anon135]

I'm not a really good writer, I just started yesterday haha, but I really like this poem! I feel like you spent some time on this and to me it sounds like you've been writing for a while. I hope you could help me with mine? Just a thought, I could really use the help.