The passage of time; the passage of the mind

Trembling hands
A trembling mind
A father that smiles and laughs
Catches my trembling eye
I force my lips to turn the other way
Wondering if his, upturned in the same manner, could be genuine
or fake
His eyes do not mirror a disgruntled heart
But I think it is.
He can’t even tremble.

Poet: Francesca Martin

read: 8074 times Rating: Date: 30 May, 2008

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Francesca Martin Poetry

The passage of time; the passage of the mind