Absent
Clock counts the time on its hands
Soft
Slience stands
Lack becomes
Grains of sand
Only notice when stuck to our feet
Retreat
Washed away
Mud
They name is
And no one recalls
Why
Once we are gone
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
