Over
I guess that’s it.
The last apple
Lies bruised,
Mourned, once cherished,
Fading,
In the basin of my memories.
Rotting,
Its changing colour,
And shape
Soon to be unrecognizable,
Miss-remembered,
Until its nothing it once was,
And then
Returns to nothing.
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.
