Obsolescence
“Treasured Barnwood” by William Havle
comes with age
and a certain amount
of low living
this wobbling gait
this off kilter view
of an all too near
crooked horizon
a center mass
shifted by insolent
fingers of gravity
pulled out of plumb
leaning over like
obsolete barnwood
afraid of its memories
crippled by pangs
of the truth that
they’re over and done
leaving nothing but
useless tomorrows
tomorrow will bring rebirth, so always have hope. nice poem.
By: mukul chand on April 11, 2016
at 11:08 am
thank you
By: Paul F. Lenzi on April 12, 2016
at 7:18 am
welcome
By: mukul chand on April 12, 2016
at 10:37 am
thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
By: Paul F. Lenzi on April 12, 2016
at 7:19 am
most welcome always!!
By: Ron DuBour on April 12, 2016
at 2:06 pm