In my house, I have a tinkling, twinkling chandelier. My momma
Loves it, my daddy is proud of it. I fascinate about it.
In my house, I have a large piano I play for my mom. She says I'm
Horrible, Papa says I'm melodious. In my house, we
Have a candelabra of Jewish heritage. I shine and polish it regularly.
Momma says she wants to keep it. Daddy says throw it away.
In my house, there was something called Love. My momma loved it.
My daddy did not do so. It dwindled and dwindled, Until
One day it disappeared altogether. Now I travel back and forth two
Houses, one with the chandelier, and one without it.
YOU ARE READING
𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧│✔
Poetry❝In the death of me, I found solace. ❞ What readers say: "Starkly honest, seeing the naked soul of your own, relishing the sorrows of being alive." "A mystic poet is born!" "Keep it up. Keep being alive. Keep writing." Poetry of the past of me. Lyr...
