Bound In Verse
Some did escape the poems
to hold the book in hand
on soft, quiet, sunlit afternoons;
turn over crisp new pages
dip into the writer's mind.
They were the lucky ones.
Others, bound in verse
were oft limned dark, and cold,
as was the author's want.
Reflections of his damaged soul.
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.
