Places

Turning pages in the park,
a bench upon to rest,
a breeze to spill leaves.

Thunder spews from the heavens,
shimmering sheets of rain
obscure the horizon.

Camping on the curb
at midnight, watching
the jets come and go.

An afternoon on the front porch
steps, stories grow as long
as the shadows on the yard.

There is no place I have found
where there is no memory of you.

.

.

for the Sunday Whirl
I could not make ‘status’ fit.

Advertisements

10 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

10 responses to “Places

  1. Lovely poem and I adore the ending. Fantastic use of the words!

  2. Great Poem… I Enjoyed It !! – Best Regards, ~Randy Garcia.~

  3. Lovely, Mark. I didn’t notice your wordle words! I couldn’t fit in status either until I had the idea of making it part of the title!

  4. Very touching use of the words. Heck with status, who needs it anyway?

  5. Very moving and a gentle piece!

  6. “Breeze to spill leaves” is a gorgeous phrase, Mark.

  7. Don’t you hate it when you can’t escape memory? Me neither.

    Suggestion: go with the alliteration and make you stories even larger than the elongated shadows –

    “An afternoon on the front porch
    steps, the status of stories grow long
    as the shadows on the yard.

  8. The problem with memories is that while they are welcome they are poignant as well. This was a beautiful read.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s