Early morning stillness
The rusted out dumpster
Behind the local grocery
Holds the promises of love
The tap tap of rain on cellophane
Really mourning illness
The busted-out lackluster
Remind with vocal sorcery
Old is the ominous ‘enough’
The apt rap of reign on ball and chain
A few black spots
And couple dropped petals
Instead of clutched to breast
You rot giving no pleasure
The picking and pruning’s love’s lost labor
A view lacks plots
A decoupled, cropped unsettles
It’s dead if touched to behest
You wrought gifting no leisure
The licking and preening sloughs last savior
Take these discarded roses
They’re not perfect
These second chance tokens
No one is perfect
And we all deserve a second chance.
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The word imagery is powerful.
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Thank you…I tried to stretch myself a bit on this one. Glad you liked it 🙂
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And I loved it.
My pleasure to read it.
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