he carries the forest
in the rolled up cuffs
of his black slacks
the finely creased lines
right down the middle of each leg
have now turned to wrinkles
the rocks and the twigs
deep puddles of rain
soak and scratch his ankles
what once were proud and powerful
wings now drag behind him
burned black from his shame of falling
there are holes in his shoes
but he harbors the promise of the sun
shining again between his bare toes
YOU ARE READING
These Four Walls
PuisiMore poetry. Happier, this time. It's kind of forced. But, hey. I'm teaching myself new tricks. And, I wanted to say thank you to the people that have helped me along the way. Hopefully, you will continue to hold my hand when the going gets rough. S...
