Dwindling Warmth and Comfort of Our Days

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Dwindling Warmth and Comfort of Our Days

#1 Post by Bernie01 » 29 Nov 2017, 23:42

Bernard Henrie
Original poem
unpublished elsewhere - not representing another Forum

Dwindling Warmth and Comfort of Our Days'

Birds, dented and off course.
Men on porches, rough as goats.
My face stern as a warden
guarding inmates.

Did I mention my wife died?
She loved Barcelona and painted
Under rain faded cork trees,
Bright colors of a child’s crayon.

Her touch wore white gloves,
She drank Dubonnet with me.
Her sundress clean and stiff
As a girl at first Communion.

I am not able to sleep at night.
Not that I sleep during the day.
The drifting clutter of low voices
like a poorly tuned radio.

Dusk comes on. Winter solstice
drops down.
Already I'm the oldest person
I know by first name.

Timothy Steele'

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