More Soup Please
In a cabinet they sit,
untouched collecting dust..
Even the doors hinges
have began to rust..
On the words I wrote,
only cobwebs appear.
I thought I wrote them,
for no one to hear..
I wrote them for me,
I don't even know why.
I guess it's my outlet,
with the pen I can cry..
I would pull them out,
when the moon shines blue.
And recite to myself,
a verse or two..
But now with the Soup,
my thoughts I can share.
Just being read
is like a blue ribbon at a fair..
I am not a poet,
this site is over my head.
I never could imagine the joy,
of simply being read..
Thank you so much,
for giving me this joy.
And my pen thanks you too,
for it knows now, it's not just a toy..
Copyright © Glen Schwartz | Year Posted 2017
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