Broken people
I know them from an old photograph-
my father sits on a stump in knickers
stern father by his side
mother in black and white
scattering chicken feed
I remember my father drove us to
the island where he is buried
parked in front of an institution
that reminded me of a prison
a woman in white brought Ann to us
we say her in a hallway
a woman with a placid face
who was somewhere nowhere
he spoke to her in calm tones
she looked beyond
we never met
poem by Walter Durk
Added by Poetry Lover
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