hes almost as tall as me now hes as
thin as a rail with weeping willow hair
hes so much like me the poor boy is
so shy so hesitant so certain (that)
he doesnt measure up somehow (that)
hell always fall short somehow (that)
hes not quite as brilliant as i say he is
Jeffrey Spahr-Summers
Advertisement
This is simply lovely, you made me think of a poem Vagabond I wrote quite sometime ago, I shall share if you do not mind, your work is inspirational “justin at fifteen” wonderfully penned, darling.
Vagabond
A vagrant breeze, mellow
from the register
paint thick thoughts, tangerine
layering overtures
of bitten interlude
stitch remembering, homemade
playing dress up
in child like dreams…
washed in little girl smiles…
wavier amid the strewn casualties
castaway, nonchalant
adrift…bare hardwood floors
adornments shiver in shimmer
of luminescent frill
buttered by an instant liquescent pout
one that brims with overwhelm
where burgundy’s abruptness taste bright
listing toward morrow’s other day
gifting fondness to someone else’s misinformed
growing up filled with laughter
haunting as echoes swell
long ago, I spoke tantamount to grown…
everyday now holds that little glimpse
of lovely…as life holds still
by Catherine