Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2018
He is, he is;
The failure not to look
Into his room, his sheets
Cold as milk. Dust creeps.
Not to stop the mantra lips
Of heisdeadnichtwahr ?
The hunt for torn film,
For old winds and dried fruit.
Perhaps the glimpse around the
Next corner, he is, he is.
For my son Daniel Philibert, missing in the Alps since April
Written by
Leslie Philibert  63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)   
182
   --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems