Thermos Flask
I found my tartan Thermos flask,
not used it for some time,
the faded squares still visible
beneath a film of grime.
A bit or rust around the base,
the side a dent or two,
the top that doubles for a cup
has split, so that won't do.
But all the same it does it's job
for when one's on the go,
keeps hot things hot and cold things cold
quite how, I do not know.
At least we share a common bond,
our outer shells are battered,
somewhat pasty, worn with time
but none of that stuff matters.
Inside of me my hopes kept warm,
some of my dreams are cool,
contents kept fresh regardless of
the state of this old fool.
When God calls me, takes off my lid
to see what life I've had,
I hope that then, unlike my flask-
I don't smell quite that bad.
Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2019
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