guarda-chuva

by T.P. Wilkinson / March 18th, 2018

Very simple verses
washed
the waiting windows
while several gusts
took as many guests
from one line
to the next
with winding rhyme
in tow.

Whispers
walked
past blinking eyes
while birds watched
in the rain
waiting for the crumbs,
the stale bread
in wasted time
below.

“Tears fall from the lips of the Douro, Porto cries at the sea”

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, March 18th, 2018 at 8:04am and is filed under Poetry.