Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
the circles still expand...but the fish has gone people come people go there it hangs in a fusty old Charity shop above a box of battered old LP's. It was just a normal Saturday afternoon people come people go A young man tries it on smiles as he looks in the mirror gets the nod of approval from his wife. His shirt is tucked in, so too his collar there is no scent of whisky mingled with tobacco on his breath, yet he has the charisma of an Easter island statue compared to the person who had it before but he's gone now... like the fish.
0
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Dead Man's Tweed
the circles still expand...but the fish has gone people come people go there it hangs in a fusty old Charity shop above a box of battered old LP's. It was just a normal Saturday afternoon people come people go A young man tries it on smiles as he looks in the mirror gets the nod of approval from his wife. His shirt is tucked in, so too his collar there is no scent of whisky mingled with tobacco on his breath, yet he has the charisma of an Easter island statue compared to the person who had it before but he's gone now... like the fish.
Against the backdrop of the humdrum of life, in this world people come and go like customers in a Charity shop. Their personalities vary too!
Written by
61/M/Lincoln, England
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem