The only quietude he’d ever known Was throwing papers in the morning dark; As there, in dawning silence he, alone, Would pedal past the edges of the park. Each paper that he’d throw would, in an arc, Land gracefully upon a greening lawn. The contrast to his home life was so stark, Where all was … Continue reading "Paperboy"
There’s no one more alive, absorbed – At least, that’s known to me – As when a child is drawing; Pure creativity Their line and color choices Are not convention’s slave: They draw because they want to And don’t have to behave
The flawless decor of the rich Can keep their sleeping kids in style; But all of that won’t give kids warmth Or make the moments worth the while That they might spend with parents who Spend all their lives on margin’s call: While love is riches, strange to say Mere riches are not love At … Continue reading "Haute Decor"
she never knew true love
You’re just a dad for show That’s all you ever effing were: Pretending that you care So much about both him and her No you cannot be bothered When they each need you to be you — But put on some performance when You think People Can see you
It's easy to forget.
Ah, the first time you're able to do something...
That cover and warm.