Deadly Sin Number 1

Lust: To be enamoured with rust.

The way that the seasons stand
Upon the shoulders of those
That came before.

In the end always toppling into winter,
As anything found in death
Must to death return.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace