The days fold into each other
like napkins in a pack;
Each one wiping me a little bit cleaner
of the sins of the past.
Those I committed,
and those committed against me.
Maybe one day I’ll be clean enough,
Before the pack is empty.
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Author:
Jabberwocky (
Offline) - Published: December 5th, 2021 09:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: Lorna
Offline)
Comments2
Love this powerful shorty.....
I am sure all will be well before that pack is empty.
Andy
Well, maybe my next poem will be about wet wipes. That should do the trick 🙂
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