Look at that
at the bar,
do not feel
the cold. Thick
head of black hair,
in comfort. Once,
that was me.
Oh yes. No one
it now. Here
I sit, Winter-coated,
hair thinned, face
drawn in wrinkles
of years. I already
know what he has
yet to learn.
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.
Wow, Sara – talk about bringing a character to life!
Oh, as I age I look at those much younger with the eyes of this one.
You looked at the image, really looked .. and saw that young man, with so much life to live, so much to learn. Cheers!
Love the metaphor of winter in this lovely poem Sara! You walked into that bar and came back with a refreshing poem!
Sara, I really wanted to write to this image but couldn’t find the words. You did the image honor and I love how you concluded your poem. It’s easy to see when looking back isn’t it.
Thanks so much, Lisa. Looking back is easier than looking forward at times.
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