The wrinkles on your forehead are framed
By the piercing brightness of the sunbeam
Alive and dancing with dust particles
I gently wipe away your scornful look
With a fresh cup of coffee
You try to hide it, but I can see the despair in your eyes
As you gently hold my hand
And promise better things for tomorrow
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
I See Through
ŞiirPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
