A shattered piece of sky
lies on the damp concrete
that stretches out like a railroad
at the end of my driveway.
A stained-glass plate
of volatile cotton balls.
It remains piece-full
until trampled underneath
the rubber soles of those
who's necks crane continuously downward.
Why do they muddle it so
if it's only trying to help them
see the heaven they are missing?
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Author:
Zemde (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2021 02:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments1
Really like this 🙂I like how you have given the puddle some feelings , and there’s some sadness there at the end of the poem ... as if those who walk by do not think of the puddle at all . I especially like the last few lines
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