Day 36 of 50 Poems/50 Days

‘Our Crown’

The wife whispers:
“Our boy, our son, our child –
the king, the son, the man.”

Backyard,
along the clothesline,
they hang a few photographs,
snapshots of their boy.

Like small bones held by string,
and the knot grows loose,
like a firm hand on the wheel
finally letting go.

Down the railing,
into the mud,
past the trees,
back to God.

Frontyard,
beside the apple tree,
they sit underneath,
staring up at the high branches
their boy’s secret spot.

Down the railing,
into the mud,
past the trees,
back to God.

Inside,
along the hallways,
the shadow of the boy
follows them in the dark.

Down the railing,
into the mud,
past the trees,
back to God.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s