Just lovely! Kinda sideways, but it reminded me of my old Buick that I inherited when my grandfather passed away. No gloves, but little remnants of his pipe tobacco everywhere. Completely different sentiment, I know, but the poem still too me there while it was also bringing me along with the poet. I love it when reading poetry is like that!
I stumbled on the same line. For me, it's because it wasn't the same voice as what I'd perceived up to that point.
Gorgeous poem, though.
I am loving this activity for getting me to articulate why the poems that stick with me do stick with me, but I'm not experiencing any surprises in my personal preferences...yet.
Oh, I love this poem. Thank you for introducing me to it, and for your personal perspective. I relate to your under- or over-reacting. And to the poet's depiction of the latter.
I spend a lot of time musing about people not paying attention to things. Like the beauty of a sunrise or sunset. Or the way cool dirt feels beneath bare feet. Or the first splash of a fat raindrop on your tongue. I think a lot about the gifts we are given, and how thankful I am for them.
I wish people would spend less time watching TV, which really keeps them from seeing the beauty of not only life, but their own families.
But, alas, sweet irony - I sure spend a lot of time ignoring things, so I can read.
I love exploring the deep, rich, imaginary worlds. I love feeling other people's emotions, walking with them through their lives.
But what am I doing when I am swept away into the pages of another world? When I open a book but put aside an experience right in front of me?
I wonder what this realization means for my writing future.
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