Tim Carlson

Rookie (Australia)

Grey - Poem by Tim Carlson

‘You’d never think I’d end up here,
At any point in my life, ’
Clutching now her walking stick,
A bent and broken wife.
‘I’ve lived a life of luxury,
Of travels far and wide,
Do I belong here? ’ she asks,
And as I spoke she cried.

My words were alive,
Yet she was dead.
Her memory lives on,
Of the day she wed and the day she found love,
In a box of foxglove and cedar,
Down by the river side.

Declaring to life,
There was no strife, nor hurt or pain or contempt,
Keeping herself, afloat on a shelf
Carved from the wood, well kempt,
She dreamt of you and your story,
And the war which took you away,
And swallowed you whole,
She may again see you one day.


Comments about Grey by Tim Carlson

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 17, 2008



[Report Error]