Cape-Cod Street
- mclaspires
- Apr 13, 2024
- 1 min read
Six-foot-four, wispy comb over, gentle gray eyes.
Laughing barefoot, sprinting down
the Cape-Cod street.
Burning blacktop scorching toes,
super soaker streaking bare backs.
Siblings shrieking
battle cries of defeat.
Shrinking frame, shaven head, dejected daze
He knows what the future foresees.
The cancer slowly carving away his pancreas.
A fungus deeply decaying his soul,
He desperately tries
to hold onto the few weeks
the doctor prescribed.
My mother sat us down,
late one Saturday night.
Her voice a shaking flame in the wind
explaining death to unsuspecting children.
A universe expecting them to find
how found family,
can be forced away.
Recent Posts
See AllDescendent, O Father Auklet, The Spring Season bird knows land For a little while. Click. Click . Click. click click click...
I wish this depression would lift I sift through thoughts that drift Trying to believe that breath is a gift Gripping the sheets ...
Maiden, yonder upmost Tallest Tower, enGlen’d + Spinning Beauty, ne’er fair’ than earthen rarities as cold, wet clay...
Comments