Molasses
When all the bells
And all the whistles
Are packed away
And put back in their wrappers
Where is my wandering attention bound to go
Faced with the prospect of entering another cold winter season
With no sun to heal these festering lesions
And I am not saying life is all bad
Rather it is a hard time of year
Where dreams turn into clashes
And the springs in a once proud mattress
Make even sleep feel like molasses
Maybe tomorrow my angel will come
And I will look back on this
As nothing more than the ramblings of bliss
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.
