|Posted by chrisjprofeta on December 17, 2012 at 11:05 AM||comments (1)|
Your shirts are hanging in their closet, cold
And stiff, unworn since when you had to go
To work, to age before becoming old,
To think the thoughts of childhood not so.
The television set is still aglow
And bleeding sound into these empty rooms;
The stars are spinning on that silly show
We loved – the stars as bright as their costumes.
But dinner’s cooked, the smell it lurks and looms
Throughout the house like secret beauty can...Read Full Post »