I’m Still Dreaming of your Birthday
empty flower vases,
burnt cake,
useless gifts wrapped in old
newsprint
I could have done so much better
have no excuse,
except for childhood memories
hanging like rat traps
from my fingers,
we are heavy souls
made heavier
with the past;
I walk through cold streams
trying to wake myself.
Margaret Roncone was born in Rochester N.Y., found her hearthome in Seattle. Wrote poetry in high school and was encouraged by a lay teacher surrounded by a swarm of nuns. Finds inspiration in frequent bus rides; hosts an open mic in Uptown.
Copyright © 2016 by Margaret Roncone
Cover Image by Staci Leigh