Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


I had left the door ajar
for just a moment.
Looked up in time
to see a shadow.
Not unlike
some common
so late at night.

And all that's left
behind for me was
just a sound.
No sound of music
but the busy fiddle
of reality,
which was creating now
the lovely, but so final sounds:
The patter of -just leaving now -,
the patter of so, yes.....
so many
l'il boys' feet.

User Rating: 2,4 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Such a sweet sentimental poem.....I enjoyed it.
I post a poem on the meaning of this poem from you 'Forest', it gives my senses, a universal sense of being lost. I simply enjoyed your poem, sir.
Ah, a paean to lost youth. I know, sadly I know.