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On Caroline Avenue MAG
marked by a plaque
of honor to
preserve an artifact of
nature, these elderly branches
twist and dance like vines
on the side of
Grandma’s house
memories of Will’s army
jacket whose colors had fit
puzzle-piece like into the
scenery seep from
a crook
molded to fit no others
than us –
bark’s enclave suspends our
worries until clocks
call us back
to conventional
homes in a
fake city
© Anonymous
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This article has 3 comments.
joker said...
on Sep. 25 2008 at 6:50 pm
I really love this poem
Sarahbrayton. said...
on Sep. 5 2008 at 12:24 am
This is gorgeous. :]
babygurl said...
on Sep. 4 2008 at 4:59 pm
this is a good poem
