Empty
The golden old rocker squeaks.
old man gliding up and down.
His knees of eternal screech.
No more time to be the clown.
In decades past there was always a plan.
No reason to write them up.
Memories never filled the cup.
Feeling helpless and void of command.
He creaks.
Floorboards squeak.
Why let go?
Who’s to know?
Empty , a creaky fridge door.
Empty , always wanting more.
Empty , a burned out light.
Emoty , was it ever right?
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Hey , it’s been a couple years in this site . Right now I’m just settling down and am going to work on getting out a better product . The stuff that is obviously trash will probably be booted. I really have no beef with anyone .... A lot of what I write is about working out a particular demon . A lot is about trying new methods based on the feedback on the poems . .
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