They were fair brothers.
Fair as in light in skin and hair.
They were also thin brothers.
Thin as in bearing resemblance to a crooked pin.
While I watch the brothers talk on the bus, they hunch over and protect their insecurely spoken words.
Once they arrive at their stop and proceed to cross the road, they do so with extreme caution, reminding me of deer.
I imagine their father to be a strict man.
Strict as in drunk with a mean tongue.
Tags: bus, family, netherlands, observing, poem, poetry, transport
February 5, 2009 at 3:05 pm |
“Once they arrive at their stop and proceed to cross the road, they do so with extreme caution, reminding me of deer.”
Lovely.
March 1, 2009 at 11:13 am |
You paint a picture well with your words, I just wonder how old the brothers are?