Book Of Leaves Poem by Michael Harmon

Book Of Leaves

Rating: 4.3


It was an autumn project every year
when I was still too young to wonder why
I could not understand the reason for
collecting leaves to paste them in a book.

We took a long drive to a country place
where a book of leaves began when you were young.
The desperate colors, amazingly profuse,
graced the ground and limbs where leaves clung.

The air above the branches was ablaze
in daylight. The leafy gloom below was deep.
Callow judgments underneath the trees
would yield the leaves I felt I had to keep.

Before we had arrived, the wind had blown
a million crisping ones into a pile.
You watched me run and eagerly leap in.
And as you watched, I wanted you to smile.

And as your son, I needed you to laugh.
But driving back, your male silence forebode.
The point at which our lives were cut in half
was no more than a few years down the road.

My book of leaves, untouched, continues to grow.
It opens by itself, and then it shuts.
Why do my thoughts always drift towards you
when some new sadness burgeons in my guts?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

very sad...much sorrow and loss in your words.

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Sandra Martyres 01 April 2014

you capture the emotions of a young child yearning for his father's attention with finesse in this haunting piece. Happy to be able to read your poetry again after so many years!

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Sandra Martyres 01 April 2014

you capture the emotions of a young child yearning for his father's attention with finesse in this haunting piece. Happy to be able to read your poetry again after so many years!

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UnKnown Messenger 06 July 2010

i can feel your pain in some way because i feel all our fathers are in some way very much alike. i've had such experiences many times over and you really capture you emotions eloquently in this poem.

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G. Murdock 09 September 2009

This speaks to the heart and soul. It reminds me of Cat's Cradle. My old dad was as about as distant as Sirus, a mere twinkle in the eye. I too sometimes think about him when the visceral butterflys come in. You sure connected my feelings in this one, thanks.

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Patti Masterman 14 August 2009

Such a hollow ring in here. Why couldn't he feel the eyes of that child begging for him to invest more of himself.? Beautifully sad and haunting.

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Michael Harmon

Michael Harmon

New York
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