Phil said 8 more weeks,
until spring draws near.
Outside my window,
it looks like it’s here.
Skipo
An empty penut butter jar, a saltine cracker box, and some Orange Crush cans sit in the trash. An old worn leather recliner in the corner by the window. The wall mounted TV stuck on Gunsmoke. The wrinkle free bed covers tucked in tight. A small dog lays at the foot of the bed and looks longingly at the door. Everything in place—except you.
I'm here
you're not—
sadness
Spring Fling
across squishy ground
scattered remnants of winter—
young child in heaven
~A Rose by Any Other Name~
They say
that in poetry
one can confess
all their sins
be freed from
their past
and start again
but these words
I write
won’t last long enough
to be remembered
no matter how hard
I try to hide them
behind flowery prose
they will never
smell like a rose
Jerry Brotherton 