Poem -
My Train
The arrows of the sun,
Pierce my stoic skin,
A volley of warmth,
Strung by Apollo himself.
The gentle waves of wind,
Waft across my body,
Sneak into my hair,
And steal my tears.
I rise from my rocking chair,
My eyes weathered with wear.
My wrinkled face,
Bears the markings of another place.
It is one that the young ones will never know,
For my train to go,
Will arrive on time.
I feel as sweet as a lime,
And as cheap as a dime,
That is how I know,
That it is time.
I do not need to live any longer.
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Comments
Oh so sad....a ride through life
enjoyed..
Faith
Great poem here, Anon Yeetermanye.
You've included a lot of excellent examples of consonance and alliteration in this piece.
Funny thing about time.
It is our greatest ally while we’re young and our most feared adversary as we grow older.
We can do a lot of things with time.
We can use our time wisely, save time, bide our time, and be ON time.
We can watch our time, take our time, and even waste our time, if we choose to.
There is one very important thing we cannot do with time, however.
We can’t save time up or accumulate it then store it in a vault for safekeeping for use at a later time.
Once our time is up, that’s all the time we’re gonna get.
Now, it’s time for me to RUN!!!
Exceptional poetry...
~Dean Kuch ⏳~?~⌛
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I am grateful for your words...thank you for taking the time to write that huge comment :)
Thank YOU for sharing your writing talent with us all.
It was entirely my pleasure.
~Dean :)