At the bottom of the stairs are my father's,
Tee Shirts,
Jeans,
Button Downs,
Socks,
Belts,
Boxers.
They lay in a heap with hangers still attached,
I see only the slight outline of the pile at the bottom of a dimly lit staircase.
But I know that in the middle of the pile,
Lay my mother's heart.
And on top,
Her tears.
ČTEŠ
A book of Rhymes - poems for the soul
PoeziePoetry of all kinds, every chapter is a new story with different authors and artists to share.