Carousel horses stomp the ground of a Saturday memory; spin until the ground bleeds with my shattered self.
A love flies past.
Slips through my fingertips.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022
Carousel horses stomp the ground of a Saturday memory; spin until the ground bleeds with my shattered self.
A love flies past.
Slips through my fingertips.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022
Rabbi waves good-bye; street lights, like halos, cast sidelong shadows against the Spanish moss swaying in warm evening of late July.
Voices fall away; moonlight lingers, follows me down the broken cobblestone path.
Last Shabbat; shadows cast against my face. I turn and wave good-bye.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022
This poem is from my poetry book “Spaces Between the Pause.” It is available on Amazon Books. I haven’t yet put it on Kindle.
Thanks for reading.
Thunder trolls the universe
slapping against invisible canopies.
Silence, a stunned casualty.
Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2021
Snow on a littered ridge.
Sun ignites snowflakes; a frozen spark.
Words drip form the edges of thoughts.
Who remembered what?
Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2021
Rolling along a journey’s path,
shadows, shattered shards of pink calcite crushed,
scattered.
Blueberries bouncing off the soggy Georgia red clay; sweet lavender rain washes all the buried sins away.
Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2021