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Abandoned childhood home Was still filled with corn bread scent And ethereal steps of heartless motherhood. The music box, found in the corner of the room, laid Full of Mozart and scars, Old cabinet With drawers for storing Always freshly harvested frost, All of that, And rare watermark of father's eye In invisible aquarelle, Forced her to freeze the heart And clenched the fist, Preventing memories to spill over the soul Like the endless field On a cracked palm of the hand.
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Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 10:39 AM UTC
The field on a cracked palm of the hand
Abandoned childhood home Was still filled with corn bread scent And ethereal steps of heartless motherhood. The music box, found in the corner of the room, laid Full of Mozart and scars, Old cabinet With drawers for storing Always freshly harvested frost, All of that, And rare watermark of father's eye In invisible aquarelle, Forced her to freeze the heart And clenched the fist, Preventing memories to spill over the soul Like the endless field On a cracked palm of the hand.
SandraDananovi
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Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 10:39 AM UTC
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