365 Days of Poetry: Day Seventy-Three

Before it is too warm to post this.


he watches the birds-
despite the cold
in swirling flakes
with the keening of boats.

he watches the birds-
collar turned up
to meet an itchy wool hat
with hands stuffed in pockets.

the rail is no help to him
steel and stiff, no decent
prop for a man left standing
with only his love.
home is not a
place for his heart-
the distance, it calls
a cliché, a new start.

he watches the birds-
jealous of their flight
wishing for coffee
cursing a fight.

he watches the birds-
from the deck of a ship
a sail through the winter
life too dead to fix.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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