Eric Peters


He Was Tired - Poem by Eric Peters

He was tired. The summer had drained his strength.
The hours pulled like weights on his hands
and the tall prairie grass was bent.

A songbird rose from the field;
The warm south wind was almost spent,
Too weak to bring the last green life,
up through the plants again.

He stood in the doorway of the old house watching.
When she left, he knew she would not return.
Even the boxes of books sealed tightly
inside a closet of hanging summer dresses
spoke only of her restlessness, and a winter alone.

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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me



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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 24, 2007

Poem Edited: Sunday, February 6, 2011


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