April 6, 2022.


appalachia

Her salt and pepper colored hair was wispy - paper thin
She had gnarled fingers that clutched onto a weathered holy bible
I watched her rock back and forth on the decaying front porch
Had seen her walk to the Baptist church every week, a devoted disciple

I thought to myself, "What an awful symphony,
between the wind chimes and the chair just about screaming"
She says, "If you think I'm ancient, wait till you learn about these mountains-
Older than bones, older than oceans, and under time they keep eroding -

but aren't they beautiful?"




Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 126 times
Written on 2022-04-18 at 20:03

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
beauty in least expected go-to's... very powerful composition of poetry!
2022-04-20


Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
That's darned good.
2022-04-19