BROKEN HOURGLASS by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I watch Diane take the hand of her drugstore cowboy

she flushes with contented bliss

her black lipstick ignites him

from their first stolen kiss

 

I can almost feel the Colorado sunshine

hear “Althea” on the Red Rocks stage

the sands of time are falling faster

it’s the epilogue, the final page

 

I can listen to the symphony /  I can try to play the melody

hoping that the Gods will be appeased

searching for my Sylvia Plath / shards of glass litter the path

I’m waiting for one final, last reprise

 

 

 

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About digthroughlife

I am a fifty-three year old poet who also writes fiction. I worked twenty-three years for the USPS, though never enthusiastically. I am a member of French Writers Worldwide and have had several poems published in French and Spanish. I hold strong opinions on music, film, and human rights. Some of my influences are Charles Bukowski, Arthur Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Sylvia Plath, W.B Yeats, Bob Marley, William Blake, and Hunter S. Thompson. I'm an avid fan of the New York Yankees, Oakland Raiders, and Indiana Pacers. I like traveling by car. I enjoy seeing rock and alt-country bands in small venues. I hold a black belt in Taekwondo, but no longer spar due to injuries incurred in a motorcycle accident in 2005. I play acoustic guitar. I love Crown Royal whiskey and California Kush. Women are both the bane of my existence and all that sustains me. I believe strongly in the power of love and heartbreak. View all posts by digthroughlife

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