Get Your Premium Membership

Gettig Old

Broken In pieces of lost The bottle Of old wine In holds desire You hold glasses And filling only to lost And lips in asking But missing The right tips And eyes in mist And asking the legs What hand Intends And heart In miss Is holding in mute with company of aliens In owns of sickness Getting old Becoming less in cup Of days and nights in time Of age

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs