Discovering Dementia

A discussion of everything weird and stupid in our world.

Monday, June 02, 2008

New Poem

Drenching Days



Oh those drenching days
No rain falls
But even the space between
Your fingers is wet

Sticky summertimes
We just snatch solace
Under the high hot sun
It ain’t time to go to bed -
Yet.

The wind’s whisper
Oh how I miss her

Can’t comprehend the heat
Just gotta eat
Ice chips
Till my fingers are blue,
Cold and wet.

Only thing to worry about
Whether the watermelon are
Ripe enough, juicy enough
To eat yet.

Those winds whisper
God damn, I miss her

Couldn’t care less
About making money,
Or getting a job -
Yet.

But those drenched days
Are gone and I’m grown
And all I wanna do
Is find a way to stay cool,
To stay wet.

That wind whispers
Guess I’ll always miss her.
|
 
Site Meter