From the Sycamore a brown leaf escapes
into Romero Creek -- I watch winter
with its skeleton trees, bark falls beside grey
water, grey as my husband’s
face on Christmas morning as he remembers
twenty years before the morning he bulldozed
a Vietcong village into a green blackened hole.
Author Bio:
I have been writing since I was in the sixth grade. Yet, it was poetry that has given me the greatest enjoyment and love. I began by red-lining important images and metaphors in poems and now I try to create them myself. Poetry has given me a voice and has been also my guide.
into Romero Creek -- I watch winter
with its skeleton trees, bark falls beside grey
water, grey as my husband’s
face on Christmas morning as he remembers
twenty years before the morning he bulldozed
a Vietcong village into a green blackened hole.
Author Bio:
I have been writing since I was in the sixth grade. Yet, it was poetry that has given me the greatest enjoyment and love. I began by red-lining important images and metaphors in poems and now I try to create them myself. Poetry has given me a voice and has been also my guide.
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