by Hellon   Aug 4, 2016

Silvery tangles frame
a face spun with spider threads
from the weary loom
of a long life.

Gnarled hands, twisted as
the roots of an ancient oak,
back... stooped by the wind
that paid visit and
forgot to leave

and yet...

His eyes are still as clear
as a summer morn,
his laughter, musical as
the first spring shower.

His smile? Ah his smile...
can still melt a winter frost,
and, once again it melts
the verglas of my heart.

He does not speak my language
and still I know
he's afraid of uniforms...

@Hellon 4th August 2016


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Latest Comments

  • 7 years ago

    by Maple Tree

    Judging Comment

    This poem melted my heart and also it is loaded with unique and detailed visuals and word display... to be writing of a solider I feel and the face or eyes of so many thoughts... just a wonderful poem, indeed!

  • I loved how descriptive you were with this. I could vividly see every image your tried to draw here. It also left me on a cliff hanger; Why uniforms? I certainly wanted to know more.

    Really loved it ^_^

  • 7 years ago

    by stormingdance (Lessa)

    Beautiful and thought provoking. 5/5

  • 7 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Congratulations Hellon, a truly wonderful poem.

  • 7 years ago

    by Brenda

    Just beautiful-so rich in visuals and the flow, just lovely.