May 5, 2009
More by this author
This is my brother
We are at the park
The sun is shining
The sky is blue
A faint breeze
Blows his blonde hair
Long and neglected
In the warm months of summer
He is not smiling
His father,
Accountant for 16 years,
Has died
Fatally struck by a drunk driver
In a blue pickup truck
His mother,
Once cheery and loving,
Has receeded into herself
Becoming a permanent fixture
Of the bed in her room
But still he is happy
Because I am there

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback