Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,848 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Where Every Wildflower Still Grows - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

She was about to kiss me,
And I wanted that kiss:
I haven’t kissed a female soul in this side of
A decade,
But I demurred, and my father has bought rose
Bushes;
And coming home from the little black children’s
Park,
The light is still on in the trailer;
And when I get inside I listen to Keats;
My mother farts: She is still beautiful, and that
Kiss would have been mine,
If I wasn’t afraid of you becoming your mother;
But lets pretend that I will return in the spring,
And we will live in the country,
And I will find your kiss again on Tuesday,
And we will go to bed while the sun is still high
In a garden where every wildflower still grows.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, February 4, 2010



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