Bewittled

Gently, the old man cradles,

His sharp lips that use to shout harsh and cruel words

At the son, now father,

Softens and whispers little lovelies

Into the rosy ears of the giggling angel.

 

This little poem was inspired by a scene I saw earlier today at the supermarket of a grandfather and his granddaughter. I’m currently being suffocated by essays in the holiday break, how can the days pass so quickly?, and hope to add little nips and bits to the blog. How are your holidays going?

Advertisements

About everburningcinders

So so...where to start? Well, for starters, I can say that I'm one of those kinds of people that don't care about their hair, or desperately need another pair of shoes. In fact, if you see me, you wouldn't notice me at all. I'm just the shadow, sticking to the walls, head buried in a book or eyes glazed over in a daydream. I want to be listened to and I want to be appreciated. My moral in life: Life is life. Believe in it and suck it up. I look forward to meetin' ya all!
This entry was posted in Little Thoughts, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Please let me know what you think ;)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s