The Ferryman's Bane
A ferryman weeps at the passing of time,
No more shall the hustle of feet fill his dock.
His worth is now waning in industry's prime,
His bane, a behemoth of metal and rock.
Walking on water the wayfarers mock,
His emptying vessel, alone on the bank.
Till memories spun with the turn of the clock,
And the ferryman's boat, to nothingness sank.
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.
