Marina in
General
majestic, majic
infinite
my little girl is
sun
on the carpet-
out the door
picking a flower, ha!
an old man,
battle-wrecked,
emerges from his
chair
and she looks at me
but only sees
love,
ha!, and I become
quick with the world
and love right back
just like I was meant
to do.
By Charles Bukowski
Tell Your Friends About It |
Print This Poem
Comments
You should be logged in to be able to leave comments
Other poems by Charles Bukowski:
|