The Wind is a Bellows
The wind is a bellows
blowing off first my scarf
then my hat.
My head is altogether naked.
Cold.
I make my way up the path,
past the willow trees leaning
alongside the lake as if at rest.
I imagine their roots
clinging to the earth, weeping
desperate.
I am reminded of
when you said,
“A bit clingy ahn’t we dahling?”
in that cursed Brahmin dialect -
so unbecoming to one so ill bred.
And I, with nothing else
but you,
held fast just the same
to what we could have been
and then, like a willow,
I too
weep.
© 2008 eMuse-
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Poetry by Pamela Tyree Griffin
Goodbye too Soon
The sun will rise today
as it has always done -
you will not be there.
The world will turn
and
Children will play
Dogs will fetch
Flowers will grow
People will marry
Babies will cry
And you will not be there.
I’m told that where you have gone
Only the dead may follow.
Dead-
The sun will set today
As it has always done
you will not be there.
And without you-
Am I gone too?
Author’s Bio
Pamela Tyree Griffin, of Springfield, MA has been writing since she was five years old according to her mother. A corporate trainer and public speaker as well, she has been published in Long Story Short, Bewildering Stories, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k), Chick Lit Review, The Shine Journal and others as well
as in several print publications. Her greatest accomplishment? Her children. Pamela considers herself a somewhat perpetual work in progress given what is known about human life expectancy...
For more about Pamela Tyree Griffin visit her website: http://www.theshinejournal.com
Contact: pamela_griffin@journalist.com