the child

[breathtest]

The child,
pressing a telephone to one cold ear,
pressing a forefinger into the other,
wanders in aimless circles
while he talks and listens.

He has plugged out
the rest of the world,
and grasps desperately the voice
which holds so many memories
in its nuances.
He peels back his shell
for one hopeless conversation,
absently drawing lines in the snow
with his toes.

He is cold for now.
His shoulders are hunched,
tiny knees dancing
and shivering.
But the world he would give
for this conversation alone,
and even more he would give
for a touch.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wow! The picture is so effortlessly vivid and then, the end - is so bloody touching.

[PeachesPieces]

wow, i have the picture in my mind and the beginnings of a tear in my eye. well written

[blank|verse]

Well, it looks like the correct response to this is WOW!, so I'll add a third to that.

I loved this image:

absently drawing lines in the snow
with his toes.
I just wonder if the first stanza might work better like this? -

Pressing a telephone to one cold ear,
pressing a forefinger into the other,
the child wanders in aimless circles
while he talks and listens.
And I would have liked some of the lines to be smoother and easier to read, but the imagery and narrative still come through very effectively.

[breathtest]

Thanks BV, i think it probably does sound better that way.

And thanks Prince and Peaches.

[Buh4Bee]

BT- I think everyone already gave the feedback I would give. I read your poem several times, trying to find a way to respond. It just makes me very sad at how disconnected this guy is from the one he loves. A nice poem.