Written for: Sunday Whirl, Wordle #513
Words: breath, river, beams, touch, summer, paper,
simple, needles, swallows, humble, bend, crowd
She gazed at
of the river
as beams of summer
the bones and bend
of her back.
A crowd had gathered.
She felt her skin
prickle like needles.
Something was wrong.
Humble swallows sang
their simple tunes
on the wing. She drew
closer and spotted
a lifeboat on the water.
A paper sign was posted.
A man had been seen
jumping into the river.
She wondered what his
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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Good poem, Sara. A good description of something that probably happens all too often.
Thanks, Mike! Crimes are definitely up.