A Blue Beetle

My dad, he owned a car like this.
He loved that little “bug”.
And I can still recall the day
He bought it.

My world is laden now, with things:
For everything’s connected;
Like all the ghosts I see,
These can’t be spotted.

I push a basket through a store,
And still hear tiny children:
Though they’re adults, and
Moved on up their tiers —

And sometimes, that small voice is mine.
Just standing in a showroom,
While my dad buys a car
He’ll love

For years

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “A Blue Beetle”

Leave a Reply

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

w

Connecting to %s