meat and potatoes
It’s a meat and potatoes kind of life
now I no longer sing.
A getting in the coal
sort of existence.
Without love to bring
a bubble to the yeasty bread.
Without yearning
making the heart knock.
Imagination’s horns are safely lopped
now I no longer dream
and romance’s wagging tail
is docked.
Flowers dry in the vase
now I don’t care to dance.
Petals ossified, as desire steps
into the corner of an empty room.
<Deleted User> (9186)
Wed 6th Apr 2011 22:55
Thanks for the comment on my poem - you can let it take you where you want. Meat and potatoes kind of life, that's for sure and that's if you're lucky.Could thing be worse, well maybe but of course they could always get better :)