Thursday, 8 January 2009

why I always come running by Angie Werren

I hear you call my name-
soft
urgent;
come-here-quick.

Exasperation races to my lips.
The words hide behind my teeth waiting
while
I put down all the things I need to do.

Can't you see I'm busy?

What-is-it-this-time becomes a hiccup when
I see your face
beaming like a five year-old with
a handful of tickets at the county fair.

It's not the bird you point at while you shush me.
It's not his proud red-ringed head or the feathers
on his belly:
I'm not even looking.

It's the little boy who forgot the old man,
unrestrained by responsibility,
who makes me run to the window
and leave the kettle
boiling;
who shows me pink sunsets,
yellow-shafted flickers
and little white flowers.

He brings me smiles.



Angie Werren, Ohio, USA

8 comments:

maekitso said...

That's lovely, Angie. The image brings a smile to my face too.

egretsnest said...

Love this poem. Great images.

Regina Clare Jane said...

Just wonderful, Angie!
I love this poem!

alotus-poetry said...

I really love the childlike play and truth woven in the last stanza.

Wonderful, and I enjoyed reading it. :) Congrats!

Annamari said...

I love it: the rhythm (the tempo), the images, the choice of words…I find impossible to pick a favorite stanza or line, for I like them all

gmarie said...

Hi, just stopped by to say it's a very lovely poem-

luke said...

come on, angie. a werren doesn't do this.

i hope we're of no relation.

angie said...

Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments...and thank you, Juliet, for this beautiful space!

It's lovely in here!