I felt compelled to write some poetry.
Never knowing you, except for that blue bundle
You carried--pressed--not to fumble.
Blind from another pack,
On a bending back,
We watched--
Tirelessly, debauched.
"Just another young one
with a young son."
A snarled path that dandies prayed not tread
That the vacant old had already lead.
A laden tread you walk no longer.
Deciding no more, just not stronger.
We see--
But can't agree.
Cryptic. Hmm. A teen mother? Your bookbag? Gah, don't be angry if I guess wrong...
Posted by: Karissa at May 17, 2005 11:15 AMNot completely wrong on the first count.
Amanda What does this poem mean? I am confused
Posted by: grammy at May 17, 2005 8:08 PMA special set of circumstances, Grandma.
A young father took his own life in our area, and I was inspired by this event to write this. It doesn't directly address him, but it asks us to reevaluate the manner in which we perceive others.
Posted by: Amanda at May 17, 2005 8:44 PM