Daddy Dear I saw her sitting there, Stone faced - on a wooden chair, Dead eyes looking every where, But me; as if I brought a bad smell to the air. The night was old; older than than we were; Or so I thought; till she finally told me, What the evening had brought. The winds were chill that night; chillier than a tomb, I wished I could climb back into my mothers womb; Back before they begot me in a careless moment of time, Over drunken kisses and several bottles of wine. The pictures poured out of her mouth; and The whole sordid story tumbled out; another night Of wine; more kisses; ignoring my best friends wishes. Daddy dear was drunk again and this time He had chosen my friend. from Namita Khare s pen
Posted on: Sat, 23 Nov 2013 12:12:25 +0000
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