Get Your Premium Membership

Winter Onions

my little round sleepers
with lots of coats on, mud
huggers with a tribal bottom

perfectly lined up at the
bus stop of spring, soft
under cold loam, a miracle

despite the banality of hidden
numbers; time to drink tea
as I wait in a cooling garden

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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

Date: 9/28/2016 4:09:00 AM
Once I looked up the word 'BANAL' it made more sense. Haha, well done. /|\
Login to Reply

Book: Reflection on the Important Things