An Invitation For Ms. Plath

An Invitation For Ms. Plath short poem

Uploaded by Keith Wilson

Dear Sylvia,
Autumn weeps in perennial loss for you.
Shedding its’ veined dry tears,
falling on cracked dry soil.
The live oak runs around the front yard,
screaming her hair is lost…
in bald cries.
I want it to rain again,
with drenching shivering words.
Your rain, with thick pulp.
You now cast long shadows with your tall books.
Ted warms his hands in them.
Come outside and sit with me Sylvia.
Deadlines bear no cutting lashes.
Sit next to me Sylvia,
and fall in love with Dawn.
The sun is now soft and lost her quills.
The moon is humble and shouts no more.
Sit next to me Sylvia,
and fall in love with Dawn…
Dear Sylvia.

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Keith Wilson

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A marine science teacher who is deeply connected to the beauty of the natural world and is in endless wonder at the opportunities of discovery that each moment offers.
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2 Comments on "An Invitation For Ms. Plath"

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Aloke
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It is a dreamscape touched with excellent poetry and exquisite beauty. An outstanding performance.

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