Refrigerator Dreams
I reached into the refrigerator,
past the curdled milk and moldy bread.
The withered dreams and stale hopes were at the back.
Their stench was nauseating,
yet familiar.
I shut the door,
telling myself I'd clean it out another day.
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.
