I remember
Your large warm hands enveloping my right
I feel
Small clammy fingers timidly reaching to my left
Walking down the street I once ran
With you chasing me behind
Across the road with the old dog
But he can't walk no more
A flurry of boxes block my vision
Disappearing in to a house all too familiar
Windows dusty but I perfectly see the inside
Ghosts of the past dance across the rooms
As I see my kid run inside
And I trail behind
Just like you did.
An empty house full of memories.
YOU ARE READING
Misster Normal (A Poetry Collection)
PuisiEveryone's different. But everyone has the same standards to be normal. So... what is exactly being 'normal'? Please note that every persona is different to represent everyone (although some may share things in common). Credits to the artist for the...
