45 Rpm
45 rpm tossed aside
spinning again no more,
old, unwanted turntable
cruelly cast out of a door;
in the attic kept away
gathering dust silently,
not unlike a transient life
to the end pointing surely;
music fading, we following,
fleeting like a crazy dream,
meaningless and forgotten,
no better than a 45 rpm.
Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment