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Ode To A Black Comb
by Philip F De Pinto
A black comb
With winter approaching fast
Takes warmth and solace in the few remaining
Gray hairs left there by an old siren
Who used to groom herself
While rocking in a porch chair
Who took her leave of that comb and me
One if by land - two if by sea - three if by air
And four if by broom
And yet how long will the warmth last
Given nest building birds
Were nibbling at the strands?
06/22/2016 Posted on 06/22/2016
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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