by Dan Leach
Then came the summer
the ponds went dry
and everyone’s grass turned
the color of bone.
Streets became graveyards
and even the pool
with its pale green promise
yawned in the distance
like a forgotten church. Continue reading
by Dan Leach
Then came the summer
the ponds went dry
and everyone’s grass turned
the color of bone.
Streets became graveyards
and even the pool
with its pale green promise
yawned in the distance
like a forgotten church. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 