One day
When our bodies no longer work as smooth
And our hearts ache for the old days
Of love and laughter
And happiness
We will only have the memories
Of days long gone
Never to return to our fingertips
Like
Silk fraying
Feels like sandpaper
And a hot apple pie cooling on the windowsill
In a summer day
Rots with fermenting fruit and bugs
And stench
Our memory will be all we will have
Until the bugs too
Eat away the laughs we once had
It will eat the tears we shed
When we think about those we've lost along the way
Until soon
We will have nothing
But a cloth with holes in it
Good for nothing
Not even for grease rags
One day
When that day comes
Please know
That I have been expecting that day to happen
And I will have accepted peace
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 4
Poetryhello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
