A Year Older and Looking Out From the Nursing Home Window

Before it brings the storm
Wind scattering plastic bags,
Skittering across the ground
Like broken birthday balloons . . .

A can is lifting and rolling,
Tinny hollow dents of sound
As if kicked by someone hiding,
Perhaps the child once you . . .

Maple wings flying and falling,
Pine cones fluttering like birds,
Leaves stumble and then run
And you're walking on trees . . .

Waiting to play in the rain again.

Poetry by countryfog The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 558 times
Written on 2011-04-28 at 19:12

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melanie sue
I love this.

Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
A longing for what once was

Well written


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Ah memories and imagery. I would hate to loose these. Obviously you haven't. Well done.


And how the mind can be free even when everything else isn't what it used to be. My greatest fear is to lose imagination and the mental faculties, else I have no fear of nursing homes.

John Ashleigh
Serenity folded into time whistling by. The imagery is animated with resplendent rendering. This is brilliant, countryfog. Thankyou for sharing. *bookmarked*.