Amanda J Harrington Poems

The look, the touch, the warm embrace
The shining eyes, the loving face
How did we come.so far today
From when we met in Love's own way?
...

All the children come to me and I carry them,

Close and forlorn
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Big red phone,

Receiver heavy in my little hand,
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The wind calls my name

With a voice the same
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A scrap of knowing

Flutters from above
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Watching as his wife lies

Still, paramedics beside her
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I'm still crossing the playground, years later

Hoping for invisibility
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When it's cold enough for frost

The old fisherman mends the fence
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A headache, thumping in the back of the mind, like a long, slow, bumpy ride up the hill

Next to Dad’s house when he still did everything and called to them from the top of the roof
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Tumbled secretly
My feelings for you
Lay at my feet
Tossed down
...