Thoughts While Waiting in the Checkout Line. A Poem.

I examine the ages,

the by-lines

on their faces

of stories held

in the creases.

Gravity spread

wrinkles of time,

of carved, etched tales.

They wait, hands

folded on their lapses.

 

Sandy the horse

is gone for repair.

Let the children

come to the

benches still there,

where wrinkles

could ride

the expressions

of stories released

for a penny.

 

 

Comments

  1. Very nice. Picturesque

    Barb Szopinski 651.492.0732

    >

  2. I wonder if Meijer would let you take a picture of Sandy and post it.

  3. I love Sandy. I hope she comes back ok

  4. Ellen DeVries says:

    I think this is my new special favorite. Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2014 12:25:00 +0000 To: ellen4jesus@hotmail.com

  5. i love how the minutes in the checkout line made you think and see… we had those horses as well when i was a kid but haven’t seen one in quite a bit…maybe just looked with the wrong eyes..

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