- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Noise from the cancer ward
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A tiny hand between my two,
Cold from the
Drip
Drip
Drip of killing juice.
My warmth goes out,
Replaced with strength,
That overflows.
Through eyes,
Deeper than an ocean trench,
Fuller than the snowy sky.
My little teacher.
Sleep.
- COMMENTS
Tzaraover 17 years agoVery elegant. The minimalist style works well here.
Mia Mooreabout 20 years agomost effective in presentation...sorry I missed this when first posted...
CoyoteCrushabout 20 years agoYour caring and sensitivity come shining through..Thankyou Carrie
Anonymousabout 20 years agoIn submitting my comment regarding your fine poem, I neglected to adjust the rating. I meant to give it the 100 it so richly deserved. Mea culpa!
Anonymousabout 20 years agoand telling. We all need this kind of compassion and understanding. Thank you, Carrie, both for the poem and the comfort your hands give that small one.
