Make me pretty,
I want to say, before walking out of the door.
Make me pretty, somehow, amongst all the
anguish
of our lives.
I see the fingers
come through the water of our love,
and if I cannot comprehend the body
what can be said of
the soul?
Make me pretty,
I want to say.
When you talk
of this all too common
life,
make me pretty.
There is nothing else.
About the Creator
Sean Bass
A poet and author from Liverpool, I have been published at dreamofshadows.co.uk and love to write.
I am extremely appreciative of anyone who reads my work. Thank you.
After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Sean, you really touched me with this poem. Nicely done! ❤️