Ann Marie

story poem...not my best but w/e

There were apartments across the street

From the orphanage.

Ann Marie loved the laundry

That hung

Between two trees.

 

She’d never

Seen clothes so white,

So light in the wind,

Floating like angels’ wings

Against the drubber of

The orphanage’s

Brown-gray skin.

 

As she watches,

Like a cat,

From one of the apartment windows,

Watches an old man named Matt,

Who has no children of his own.

 

Reviews

[Dressed in Poetry]

Awwww. I like that we see the two people. On one hand, you'd hate to be the orphan, but then it would be terrible to be Matt as well.