This is my poem.
An empty home.
A place where nothing is conceived,
no creativity released.
This is my poem,
A blank page of loose-leaf paper,
on which a couple of words are plopped down
like a spring drizzle.
But nature’s law runs backwards
and now those words are covered
by the frost of autumn.
I forgot to cover those sparse words up,
give them fertilizer and let them grow,
and they died
right in front of my face.
- Title: This is my poem.
- Artist: Savinien
- Description: Goal: Posting a poem every 1-2 days.
- Date: 05/13/2009
- Tags: poem