The Little Room
Golden CirclesIn my shadow
Relaxing
In broken thoughts
Dismayed
Upon my broken-ness
A trail of waves emit
These tattered phrases
Don't you get it?
Even though there is a present, future, past
How can we ever just forget
Our pain of life.
Bitter sorrow
Just remain in here a while
Making rainbows in my gutters
From the rain of forest timbers
Breaking down into this
Little room
I call my soul.
10-8-10
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.