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Kickass Phone Rates from 3U
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| PLACES TO GO: |
Smoke rises from the diming tip of the wick Heat abates, even though struggling tendrils seek The return of the flame, of life And sees it not The old rocker, well used, now sits in a corner Polished wood with loveworn smoothness Creaks in cracks that sing no more Hardened seat yearning for warmth And feels it not Old country road, winding in the woods Once bearing carts, bikes, and hapless lovers Now grass choked paths beg for feet To disturb the dust And sees them not Silver-haired woman, eyes on the wall Once mother, grandmother, aunt, friend Now in life's twilight yearns for touch And feels it not Young man, alone in the world Mind tortured and emotions strained Wishes himself in the arms of another And has it not. -- August 11, 2001 |
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