The Omen
The Omen
I heard the sound of a plane looked up
a big carrier going north, it was white
and had an orange tail.
In one of its portholes my brother sat
looking out he had a serious face and
I think he was day-dreaming.
I waved he took his glasses off polished,
and put them back on, politely waved
too, but I don’t think he saw me clearly.
The plane vanished into a cloud of fine
woven air, I listened to its silence till a
crowing crow in a tree broke the hush.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.