We are
our possessions.
Baubles lined along
the top of the bookshelf.
Books that we
may not have read.
Store bought trinkets
that the kids gave us.
Cards, bells, buttons, spoons.
Little treasures
lined up
to measure out the length
of our lives.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comments:
I like the first line for its bleakness as we strive so hard to not be our possessions but in the end, as in this poem, that's what we leave behind. The unread books is something I am completely guilty of.
There seems to be a typo in the last line as it looks like you got stuck between "a life" or "our lives." I like "our lives" better as it will set up a parallel structure with the first line.
Post a Comment