Evening In Paris Poem by Joe Howell

Evening In Paris

Rating: 5.0


The sun, a glass marble shines on innocense.
I lie in short grass, looking into the future.

The moon- a shiny biscut covers the clouds.
And midnight bleeds into childhood dreams..

The watch hands turn into a foreign country.
The war passed, I standown in rags.

Looking thru the back glass of a Rambler Station Wagon.
Childhood dreams escape as the dust.
I smell Evening in Paris.

The wrinkles in skin and shirt pressed by time.
I lie in short grass, looking into the past.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mireille Laborie 10 October 2007

I understand and hear you well, there, Joe.

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