"What slips between my fingers, o father?"
Son Jack asks, shaking his decayed fingers.
The father responds with a quick stutter,
"Just sand, m'boy."
And that was all he needed to know,
As the bones slipped from his pocket-flesh,
Trickling with Gold and dirt.
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Poems
Poesía"The universe kissed the stars, who birthed a galaxy of new beginnings." The only way to express beautiful and cynical thoughts is through the delightful invention of simple, and yet complex, poetry. My poems never end, have no defined theme and st...
