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The Book I took a book from the shelf as I read I refused to let the character dissolve in the acid of failing memory I go into the pit with him cold and dark buffeted by dank winds that strips us bare each of us alone and never alone I’m haunted by everyone he has loved wounded or maimed As I read I decided I’d fight for him and not let him fall into the darkness nor let his face wear smooth as an old coin till his face was any face I will not let him vanish like signs weathered white beside weeds in a winding road Instead I’ll lead him out one phrase at a time Then as dawn lays on the windows of morning where night’s chocolate melted I realize there is no one only a book that flies past me into the light |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2013-06-01 14:14:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
As always your poems are so visual. where i was you on that quest to be of help. I really like the old coin and weathered white sign medafores. As always thankyou for an excellent read