Parkinson's Disease
While spoon-feeding him with one hand
she holds his hand with her other hand,
or rather lets it rest on top of his,
which is permanently clenched shut.
When he turns his head away, she reaches
around and puts in the spoonful blind.
He will not accept the next morsel
until he has completely chewed this one.
His bright squint tells her he finds
the shrimp she has just put in delicious.
Next to the voice and touch of those we love,
food may be our last pleasure on earth—
a man on death row takes his T-bone
in small bites and swishes each sip
of the jug wine around in his mouth,
tomorrow will be too late for them to jolt
this supper out of him. She strokes
his head very slowly, as if to cheer up
each separate discomfited hair sticking up
from its root in his stricken brain.
Standing behind him, she presses
her check to his, kisses his jowl,
and his eyes seem to stop seeing
and do nothing but emit light.
Could heaven be a time, after we are dead,
of remembering the knowledge
flesh had from flesh? The flesh
of his face is hard, perhaps
from years spent facing down others
until they fell back, and harder
from years of being himself faced down
and falling back in his turn, and harder still
from all the while frowning
and beaming and worrying and shouting
and probably letting go in rages.
His face softens into a kind
of quizzical wince, as if one
of the other animals were working at
getting the knack of the human smile.
When picking up a cookie he uses
both thumbtips to grip it
and push it against an index finger
to secure it so that he can lift it.
She takes him then to the bathroom,
where she lowers his pants and removes
the wet diaper and holds the spout of the bottle
to his old penis until he pisses all he can,
then puts on the fresh diaper and pulls up his pants.
When they come out, she is facing him,
walking backwards in front of him
and holding his hands, pulling him
when he stops, reminding him to step
when he forgets and starts to pitch forward.
She is leading her old father into the future
as far as they can go, and she is walking
him back into her childhood, where she stood
in bare feet on the toes of his shoes
and they foxtrotted on this same rug.
I watch them closely: she could be teaching him
the last steps that one day she may teach me.
At this moment, he glints and shines,
as if it will be only a small dislocation
for him to pass from this paradise into the next.
poem by Galway Kinnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wanting
She can't help it
The wanting of him
A simple glimpse
Across a crowd
She hides her smile
As her imagination
Goes
Into
Overdrive
Goosebumps rise
Along her flesh
Somewhere deep
A quickening begins
Her heartbeat accelerates
Her blood warms and
Begins to pulsate
As she
Holds on
Always
Yearning
Wondering
If he kissed her
Would she moan
As his mouth consumed her
Enslaved her
As his hands touched her
Caressed her flesh
His nearness makes it difficult to breathe
All of her wishes
To melt into him
Reach out and
Touch
A glimpse of her
Across a room
Leaves
Him
Wanting
Wanting to
Reach out and touch
To hold her face in his hands
Brush the tip of his thumb
Across her soft lips
Caress her skin
Let his hand travel
Travel
Across her throat
Feel her pulse
As it glides
To the back of her head
Grab a fist full of raven hair
Tilt her head back
Look into her languid eyes
Her parted lips
And trace kisses along her flesh
As she forgets
How to breathe
Their wanting of each other
Is hidden well
In the ease and flow
Of a crowded room
Maybe neither knowing
Neither certain
Both aware of the other
Both
Wanting.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Pantomime – Red Skelton and His Cat
The old man comes cautiously down
The stairs to the kitchen.
He takes the last step
That isn't there -
A bone shuddering stop.
Pausing, he searches the dark room
For the dangling light cord,
And moves toward
The center of the room -
Carefully.
It's unfortunate as the cat
Is discovered sitting in the middle of the floor.
As the old man steps on its tail,
It howls it great pain -
Startling the old man.
Finally, after groping the empty air,
He finds the cord.
Pulling it; he is
Blinded by the sudden light -
Causing him to cover his eyes.
Looking about the room.
He sees, in the corner,
The offended cat.
He ask for forgiveness -
Stoops to pet and caress.
He stands, with apparent pain,
Moves to the kitchen counter,
Sees a number of cans,
That must be cat food –
And selects one.
He shows the can to the cat;
Returns to the counter and
Taking a hand-cranked opener
He begins -
To open it with great difficulty.
Finally opened,
He places the lid on the counter,
Raises the can to his nose,
Smiles appreciately, bends and -
Offers the cat a smell.
Bracing his back he stands.
Takes a spoon,
From the counter,
And bends over the cat's dish. -
Placing a portion in the dish.
Pushing the cat away,
He adds a second helping.
Then, thinking he has
added too much, -
He spoons a bit back into the can.
Standing again with difficulty,
He straightens his back,
And once more sniffs the can.
Raises the spoon -
And takes a small bite.
Liking what he finds,
He turns his back to the cat,
And eats
All that remains -
Then wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
Guiltily he looks back at the cat,
Seeing there is liquid in the can,
He once again bends low
Over the cat and its dish -
And pours the remaining liquid into the cat's dish.
He stands,
Places a hand to his aching back,
Wipes his mouth on his sleeve,
Places the spoon and can on the counter -
And steps to the center of the room.
He pulls the light cord;
The room is dark.
From the darkness
You hear, -
'Good night and God Bless.'
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alive Again
I'm all alone,
It's dark in here,
And for some reason,
I'm filled with fear,
All I remember,
Is walking 'cross the street,
And the bright headlights,
That knocked me off my feet,
I'm in so much pain,
I see a white light,
The light's so warm,
And so bright,
I start walking,
Towards the light,
But then I hear,
A familiar voice,
More start to join it,
They plead in my ears,
They tell me to stay,
With them now here,
I start to walk back,
The pain is intense,
But I don't want to leave,
I want to stay here,
I see someone now,
She holds out her hand,
I can't see her face,
But I do trust her,
I grab her hand,
She leads me away,
I see another light,
It's softer this time,
We stop at the light,
I want to walk through,
The bright light it beckons,
But I don't want to go,
She doesn't come with me,
But I see her face,
She's an old friend,
That died before me,
I tell her goodbye,
She smiles and waves,
I walk through the light,
And everything fades,
I open my eyes,
A friend's holding my hand,
They seem so relieved,
I'm alive again.
poem by Kelly Aragon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between Games
Nobody rests
This one constantly shifts his eyes
Hangs them on his head
And whether he wants it or not starts walking
backwards
He puts them on the soles of his feet
And whether he wants it or not returns walking
on his head
This one turns into an ear
He hears all that won't let itself be heard
But he grows bored
Yearns to turn again into himself
But without eyes he can't see how
That one bares all his faces
One after the other he throws them over the roof
The last one he throws under his feet
And sinks his head into his hands
This one stretches his sight
Stretches it from thumb to thumb
Walks over it walks
First slow then fast
Then faster and faster
That one plays with his head
Juggles it in the air
Meets it with his index finger
Or doesn't meet it at all
Nobody rests
poem by Vasko Popa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music Is Hapiness
I lift up my hands
The smile on my face tells all
The music
Takes me away
Away from everything bad
The Music
It makes me laugh
It makes me happy
I lift up my hands
Sway back and forth
If there is one thing good in this world
Its Music
It fills my mind
With good thoughts
Replacing the bad ones
My eyes
Full of joy
Instead of sadness
The music
Is my happiness
I lift up my hands
Shake my head back and forth
My hair in my face
The music
It lets me
Come out of my shell
The music
Lets me be who I am
I lift up my hands
The rhythm pounds on my eardrums
The ends of my mouth
Curl up
Instead of down
I lift my head
Brush the hair out of my eyes
The music
Is my happiness
The Ferryer
Three years after my father's death
he goes back to work. Unemployed
for twenty-five years, he's very glad
to be taken on again, shows up
on time, tireless worker. He sits
in the prow of the boat, sweet cox, turned
with his back to the carried. He is dead, but able
to kneel upright, facing forward
toward the other shore. Someone has closed
his mouth, so he looks more comfortable, not
thirsty or calling out, and his eyes
are open, there under the iris the black
line that appeared there in death. He is calm,
he is happy to be hired, he's in business again,
his new job is a joke between us and he
loves to have a joke with me, he keeps
a straight face. He waits, naked,
ivory bow figurehead,
ribs, nipples, lips, a gaunt
tall man, and when I bring people
and set them in the boat and push them off
my father poles them across the river
to the far bank. We don't speak,
he knows that this is simply someone
I want to get rid of, who makes me feel
ugly and afraid. I do not say
the way you did. He knows the labor
and loves it. When I dump someone in
he does not look back, he takes them straight
to hell. He wants to work for me
until I die. Then, he knows, I will
come to him, get in his boat
and be taken across, then hold out my broad
hand to his, help him ashore, we will
embrace like two who were never born,
naked, not breathing then up to our chins we will
pull the dark blanket of earth and
rest together at the end of the working day.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful (2)
Black hair falls from her bun
As I lay my hands on her back
She tenses up just a little bit
Then relaxes as I come nearer
I push my hands deep into her back
As she smiles and looks just a little
To see me smiling back at her
I see her blush and turn back
I smell the perfume she wears
As my hands climbs through her hair
Burning passion reaping us both
As she grabs my hand from her neck
And puts it slowly into her hand
Then with a sigh I hold it in mine
This sweet love finer than wine
i can only call this but one very thing
Beautiful
poem by Branden Aeling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Girl and The Moon
once upon a time there was a little girl.
she liked to sit outside at night and talk to the moon.
everynight she kept the moon company.
one night she noticed the moon seemed tired, so
she climbed upon the roof, to tell the moon a secret.
the old moon smiled, so she reaches up
takes the moon in her hands and puts him in her pocket.
then she climbs down and goes into her house, up the stairs
to her room.there she takes the moon out and lets lay on
her bed.for hours they talked, told secrets and giggled.
then they heard people asking where the moon was.
outside was so dark, they couldnt find their ways.
the old moon says to the little girl
'maybe you should put me back into the sky,
so the people can find their way home at night'.
the little girl agreed.so she picks up the moon,
puts him back into her pocket.
she walks downstairs and goes outside.
it was very dark, but she wasnt afraid,
she had her friend the moon to help
show her the way.
she climbs back upon the roof, takes the moon out
of her pocket. holding him with both hands
she tells the moon'i love you,
we will still talk every night, but you must go back
give people light at nightime'.
she leans over kisses the moon goodnight.
then reaches back and tosses the moon
hard as she could back into the
nightime sky.
then the little girl and the moon hear, all the people
shouting and laughing.
after everything quietened down
the stars who were so happy the moon returned
all gave the moon kisses.
the little girl climbed down
with the moon lighting her way
went inside up to her room
took 1 last peek out
blowing the moon a big kiss goodnight.
poem by Sandy Nobody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh For A Fantasy
There's a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? Oh yeah.
Hangin' out for a body shop at night
Ain't it strange what we do to feel alright? Oh yeah.
So when will you call?
I'm experienced Oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
It's after midnight
Are you feelin' alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Don't ask questions, there's time for it all Oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
It's an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dunne Studying.
Dunne watches her mistress sleep.
There is the flickering of the eyelids
As if in dream. She gets out of bed
And with soft tread walks to her
Mistress’s bed side and looks down.
She holds her breath. She takes in
Each aspect of the face and neck
And how the hair is spread upon
The pillow. She wants to lean down
And kiss the lips, put flesh to flesh.
She hovers like some hawk waiting
To fly down and take her fine prey.
She breathes out slowly. She watches
The rise and fall of her mistress’s breast.
She moves out a hand to lay it there
But does not touch. She imagines so.
Imagines also climbing into the bed
And snuggling up close and kissing
The nape of neck. Her hand lingers
Over the breasts. Her eyes greedily
Study the soft cheek. She breathes
In deep. Her heart pounds within her
Breast. So near so near. She imagines
Lying within those arms and feeling
The hands caress her back. Her mistress
Stirs and she moves away. Walks back
To her own bed to await the light of day.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh For Fantasy
Theres a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? oh yeah.
Hangin out for a body shop at night
Aint it strange what we do to feel alright? oh yeah.
So when will you call?
Im experienced oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
Its after midnight
Are you feelin alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Dont ask questions, theres time for it all oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
Its an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emmaline Conner room 101(contest winner writing.com)
Lids slowly closing, aged eyes rimmed with red
Blue veined hands clutching sheets to her chin
Fond memories, old boyfriends, gaily dance in her head
A Time traveler, scanning archives, sequestered within
My knock brings her back to this time, here and now
With a start she awakens, closes softly memory’s door
With a smile I approach, place a hand on her brow
Gently bringing her back to the present once more
Tucking a bib beneath her chin like an infant
Huge Breakfast tray pulled close to her breast
Eyes mockingly wide in jesting amazement
Solemnly promises to give it her best
I sit by her side, uncapping and helping
With the soft pureed breakfast I provided
A few birdlike bites, her resolve quickly melting
She’s really quite full now, she’s decided
Chiding her gently to eat some more food
she jokingly tells me she’s watching her weight
And with age earned authority it’s to be understood
At a fat eighty pounds, it’s already too late
I remove the tray, knowing when I’m beaten
By a wisp of a woman who grows more wispy each day
Each day of each week less food is eaten
Not much more time in this bed will she stay
diaper changing endured with lady-like grace
bed bath accepted with placid aplomb
Grey hair brushed back and tied with white lace
Wizened face a portrait of complacent calm
Dear friend, earnest student, strong right hand for her mother
Many persons this fine lady has played
Big sister for small brother, to strong passionate lover
Roles without end and with deep love portrayed
As I place the call button close to her hands
She dreamily places withered hands over mine
Be sure to come back here for lunch, she demands
And this time be sure to bring wine
Eyes slowly closing, drifting off into slumber
I gently pull sheets to her chin
Once more a time traveler, to memories without number
She travels back to the past once again
At another door I knock softly so not to alarm
Another time traveler, body here, mind away
A grandfatherly figure with tubes in his arm
Nurses whisper to me that he’s not long to stay
I wipe food from the corners of his mouth as I feed him
While thinking how much these people endure
Admiring them all as their sight starts to dim
Time travelers, in their memories all safe and secure
Silence suddenly broken, by speakers in halls
Attention, Code 99, Room 101!
My spoon stops… suspended… my heart seems to pause
Time traveler, sweet traveler, where have you gone?
At lunch time I knock softly, sadly open the door
Empty bed, newly made, makes my eyes sting with tears
Emmaline Connor, Time traveler, sleeps here no more
Is once more a young lady…
traveling back through the years
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man And His Woman...
A Man And His Woman, Holds Each Other
A Man And His Woman, Best Friends & Lovers
Sticking Closer, Than All Newcomers
Taking On, All Confronters
A Man And His Woman, So Beautiful
A Woman And Her Man, So Dutiful
Bound Up, Believing, Flesh, Blood and Breath
Blended Fidelity, Even Unto Death
Man Holds To His Side, His Rib-Bone
Facing A Future, That May Be Hard As Stone
Woman, Looks To Her Man, To Continue The Trail
Helping Where She Can, Even If He Fell
She … Enhances His Masculinity
He … Empowers Her Identity
She … Caresses and Smoothes The Edges
He … Lifts Her Up To Mountain Ridges
A Man And His Woman, So Unique
Yet, One Without The Other, Is Not Complete
He Takes The Lead, In The Dance Of Life
For There’s No Rehearsal, This Is Live …
Step By Step, Side By Side
Even Now, Its One, Wild, Sweet, Ride
Of Desires And Dreams, Always Aspiring
To What Man And His Woman Are Promising
Together, They Are A Wondrous Team
Together, They Are ‘As One’ In Being
Of Physical Creation, They Can’t Be Bested
God, Made Man And Woman … and Rested …
Written & ©: 2/19/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
I Don't Know About Tomorrow
I Just Live From Day To Day
And I Don't Borrow From The Sunshine
'cause The Skies Might Turn To Grey
And I Don't Worry About The Future
'cause I Know What Jesus Said
And Today I'm Gonna Walk Right Beside Him
'cause He's The One Who Knows What Is Ahead
There Are Things About Tomorrow
That I Don't Seem To Understand
But I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
And I Know Who Holds My Hand
And Each Step Is Getting Brighter
As The Golden Stairs I Climb
And Every Burden Is Getting Lighter
And All The Clouds Their Silver Line
And I'll Bet The Sun It's Always Shining
And No Tears Will Ever Dim The Eye
And The Ending Of The Rainbow
Where The Mountains They Touch The Sky
There Are Many Things About Tomorrow
I Don't Seem To Understand
But I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
And I Know Who Holds My Hand
Yes I Know Who Holds My Hand
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes from You Light Up My Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yours Forever
Here we are in the grays of winter,
Here we are just me and you,
Hold my hand,
Lets face tomorrow,
Tomorrow still holds out its hands to you
This precious time we've only borrowed,
The autumn winds have blown on through,
A quiet thought will tell our story,
Tomorrow still holds out its hands to you
Yes tomorrow still holds out its hands to you
Here some wings,
There yours forever,
And heres some dreams,
That will come true,
Take these tears, to wash away your sorrows,
Tomorrow still holds out its hands to you,
Yes tomorrow still holds out its to you,
Yes tomorrow still holds out its hands to you
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turning Back From The Abyss
Watch the contents of the bottle go down the sink.
Oh, how I want a drink.
I must resist, I must resist.
The smell of alcohol in the air.
I can almost taste it there.
Temptation is rife.
I must resist the urge, I must resist.
I open the window,
breath deeply in air
This is the first hour,
of the first day.
Time is my enemy
I have to ignore.
If I watch it go slowly,
I’ll only want a drink more.
Must go for a walk,
so its outs of sight
Oh, day turn to night,
night turn to day.
The streets are too busy
for anyone to notice me.
The road back is harder,
than the one I slipped down
The way is steeper.
Take a little step at a time.
With each new passing day,
Must keep the demons
and nightmares at bay.
I might stumble,
but I dare not slip again.
First rid your life of bottles,
shave everyday,
try to look presentable,
clean your clothes.
Theses are my daily vows.
Step out into the sunlight
Hold your head up high
Your going to make it,
through this day.
Tomorrow is somewhere else,
just think of today.
The minutes stretch like hours
You look at bottles on display
The demon inside you tells you
“Go in and buy one.”
No, you can’t go back
now that you’ve started.
Walk by, ignore what you see.
Take no second glance.
Just keep walking away
Temptation may be rife.
You’ve got to fight the urge.
No one said it would be easy
There was no magic cure.
You’ve got to think future,
make it your goal.
With every step you take,
think of smiling faces, cheering you on.
Family and friends, you thought were all gone.
Remember their faces.
See what they see.
They want you back,
the way you used to be.
Happy and loving and care free.
You owe it to yourself,
to see the whole thing through.
If you want that life again
Walk by the temptations,
every step along the way.
Dispel the demon,
everything he has to say.
You can do it if you want to.
Hand will outstretch
to help you through.
The way back is never easy
Take each day as it comes.
Oh, sure there will be bad ones.
You’ll cry for the bottle,
to ease all the pain.
Don’t reach for it
and drag yourself down again.
Remember if you fall this time.
you may never get another chance.
Take it while you’ve got it.
Go one make your stance.
The choice is yours.
The bottle or a new life.
The bottle, loneliness and empty again.
A new life, job, family and friends.
The choice is yours.
Think carefully my friend.
Make all the nightmares end.
I’m strong now, I’ll walk by.
I want what I lost,
all those years ago.
Straight ahead I look,
no second glance take.
I must climb this road,
no matter how long it takes.
29 Jan 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Agenda
In a brief briefings
We the animals and me
Assemble to corner the evils
the deer give a motion, from now on
we will not kill others and ban eating their flesh
but toad with its big head stands up and says,
we can eat everything but not grass think please about us,
snake puts up its hood and supports the toad as this fits its own agenda,
peacock with glee puts its hands up too and says lets us pass quickly the bill,
so that we can kill and make a feast out of their flesh and the peacock's first prey in front of me
is the snake, I am ashamed of the act that I can not protect the snake, from now then I hate myself.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In An Alley Somewhere Tonight
The alley lay in front of her
As black as death
Then she heard him stir
Somewhere from the shadows, the black depths
She hears the movement again and crosses the street
As her heals clicked he waited
For the perfect time for them to meet
As he stood waiting in a small noche
And as she past his waiting spot
He jumped out and grabbed her careful of her eyes
He takes her in hi arms and takes off the cloths she just bought
For tonight a young lady dies
He thrusts his own pants aside
And pulls her close to him with a death grip
And his face doesn't change when he is inside
And as he moves it cracks her like a whip
She falls to the ground as the sirens start
And as he runs away taking along his hate
As they run to her body they check her heart
Yet on this night the are to late
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always Walking, Never Alone!
always walking, never alone...
be it the wind,
whose voice has comforted me
for longer than i can remember.
be it darkness,
my lover, passion unfolding.
be it the lights in unknown houses,
signaling life to the traveller.
be it the whisper of stone,
and wood aging and holding.
be it the cry of emptiness,
vacant buildings, desolate streets.
be it the smells of food cooking,
of woodsmoke, of flesh on flesh.
be it the taste of rain,
the cold touch of falling snow.
be it the stillness of graves,
row upon row, life upon life.
my god walks with me,
naked in the night.
we listen for the whimper of babies,
the meow of stray cats.
for the sound of the shot,
and the body falling.
for the key turning the lock,
and the creaking of the swing.
for the perfume of the pines,
for the man picking up the trash.
for the heart moaning
low and gutteral in need.
for the sound of the man weeping,
having given up,
and the woman that holds him.
for the prayers of small children,
and the echoes of longing...
always walking, never alone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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