A Small Boy Holding Flowers

I miss you and I wanted to write
you a letter to tell you I miss you
but there is no silence
like hello unanswered,
He is standing at your front door
holding a bunch of flowers
his fringe falling over his face
just another barefoot boy
with bicycle and slingshot
too shy to knock
I was putting your hospital things
in boxes this morning, I miss you, and
the last drawing in your sketch book
was of a little blue boy holding
a bunch of yellow flowers
and a slingshot
too shy to knock,



The Yellow Dress

there were days and children
meals and books
there were laughing eyes
sparkling light
now he has forgotten
his original intention
only the yellow dress remains
a flowing surface
beneath which mystery moves
and dreams take flight

poet's biography ->