Winds of Spring creeping into open doors
that shrivel dandelions and tulips
and daffodils into collapsed balloons
on green jail bars ring against each other
in the groomsman’s hurried breeze. He runs off
into the sunset through the neighborhood
of simple living and suburb golf carts.
The boy’s tie is a broken propeller
flipping and flying—noosed for the gallows—
running through gardens from rings that aren’t his.
The bride and groom are left, bewilderment
striking their glory days in estrangement.
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Responsibility (And Other Scary Monsters)
PoetryPoems of an ever expanding world and the single soul that sees it through different lenses.
