I come in sadly,
greeting crusty red faces.
One hand shakes firmly.
Crusty good. Am I crusty?
Wondering if God is here.
Alcoholism, Angels, Compassion, Depression, Fear, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Safe Places, Seeking God, Spirituality, Tanka
This entry was posted on April 4, 2011, 9:19 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
#1 by Jamie Dedes on April 4, 2011 - 11:50 pm
Crusty! I rather like that as an issue. Nicely done.
#2 by Carl on April 5, 2011 - 7:14 am
It is open to lots of different interpretations! Thank you, Jamie!