A boy age 8
was struck
by a trolley
while waiting
for a train.
A witness
remembered,
in her senile years
a red bandanna
around the boy's neck.
The driver,
heartbroken,
was detained
past supper
and retired within
a year.
Instead of following the traditional path of a chap book, I am using this blog as an evolving form for poems both old and new (e.g. the title piece is yet to be written). I do not see myself as a poet, but I enjoy writing these pieces and hope that some people might enjoy reading them.. It is really as simple as that.
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