A trinket in an old box,
A ripped gift with a tattered bow,
A pair of once white socks,
And a sewing machine on which I can't sew.
A pair of shoes that'd been worn on tiny feet,
A lock from the first cutting of hair,
A funny-smelling car seat,
And a board game with some wear and tear.
A birthday card that I forgot to shred,
An album of musty photographs from my grandparents' days,
A knit blankie that has a loose thread,
And a tape that no longer plays.
Some may call it hoarding,
But I call it collecting.
***
Did I just unknowingly write a Shakespearean sonnet?
*self-five*
7/27/2017
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Over Prose
PoetryI've never been artistic. I've never really liked poetry. So basically, I'm gonna add shit when I'm sleep-deprived and not thinking straight. NOTE: One shitty poem USED TO BE posted every day! Highest ranking: #67 in Poetry (8/17/2017) *** Cover pho...
