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trailer park tuscany... OR a mustard seed of hope
by Charlie Morgan
olive skinned, shaded in grime,
she dreams of that day.
the day that rough stones become smooth.
that day
when the glimmering day becomes shivering night;
short is long
and wet becomes dry;
when babies are not trash
and lovers don't leave,
smiles mean happiness.
that day.
one part of her, not dulled by poverty
not chafed raw by social settings
still pulses and beats like
the heart of a young dove.
aquiver with Wants she can't name;
words are not hers, only trapped
feelings from lack of lustre that
glamour brings.
alas, spring has come
and the nests are all bare.
05/02/2005 Posted on 05/02/2005
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sam Roberts on 05/02/05 at 10:48 PM This is so beautiful..all of it but my favoutite little bit "still pulses and beats like
the heart of a young dove." With the perfect ending. Stay beautiful ;) x |
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