It's not like it's been said
or
even thought of.
The quite, the noise of it....
The prayers unsaid, the pictures never painted... The life not lived.
When does the top turn when the batteries wear out?
The glass laid out, spilled past it's brim... Laying to be taken up again.
A Plumbers Nightmare
8 years ago
1 comment:
Hey, nice poem, BigDaddy. What is it that's so wonderful about wondering about what might have been? I think your poem captured that feeling while not overindulging or preaching. Nice.
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