I saw a little boy
carrying a dead fish
at the beach.
The fish was flat - decayed -
the color of wet sand
viewed through my tinted glasses,
which added to the gloom of the day.
It made me think of change
Here it was
a warm October day and
just 3 months ago
this beach was packed
with people,
the water more inviting.
The days are getting colder.
I hate the cold;
it reminds me of something inside myself;
something not just cold
but something dead -
life isn't like the seasons;
there's little guarantee
that the warmth
will return.
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What Really Matters: Poems About Love, Loss, & Trauma
PoesíaThis is a collection of poems inspired by love, loss of love, and other tragic and traumatic events that began in late July of 2000 - so some poems are about love and others about the loss of that love. This is my autobiography in poetry form. I had...
