He is everything
He is the song I sing
My dear son
He's the brightest spring
She is crooked
The cries of a crow
Can't compare to her voice,
her arrows, her bow
His flowers of color
Curious and brave
A natural leader
My eyes engraved
The piercing of her words
Her shades of ember
Absent, yet ringing
The hurt is easy to remember
Yet unknowing of the world
The world he owns
The petals he leaves behind
And the power he holds
I clench my fist
Seeing her in this house
Of broken memories
Of a lonely spouse
I am gone for him
My adventures give him anew
I think about the smile
I can come home to
Mom and I don't see each other
Our family pictures are blurred
But when she spreads her vulture wings
I choke under the waves of her words
YOU ARE READING
Writer in Progress
Non-FictionAs an aspiring author and journalist, I have been taking literary courses to expand my horizon as a writer. Whether that be illustrating from different perspectives, recording naturalistic observations, or analyzing TV shows... I have been growing i...
