Sep 2012
Over the garden you droop,
crooked fingers
point in every direction.
When summer's gone
you shake, a wet dog,
the grass strewn with shrivelled waste.
"Not so young anymore",
a weaker wrinkled body
battered by almost all weathers.
A faded jade jacket
covers your naked figure
as the cold days come closer.
From my window I look,
and your strands of hair
nearly scrape the sky.
crooked fingers
point in every direction.
When summer's gone
you shake, a wet dog,
the grass strewn with shrivelled waste.
"Not so young anymore",
a weaker wrinkled body
battered by almost all weathers.
A faded jade jacket
covers your naked figure
as the cold days come closer.
From my window I look,
and your strands of hair
nearly scrape the sky.
Written: September and October 2012.
Explanation: A work still in progress. Available on my blog and uploaded as an earlier draft on to Facebook. This poemwas my first piece for my second year of university.
Explanation: A work still in progress. Available on my blog and uploaded as an earlier draft on to Facebook. This poemwas my first piece for my second year of university.
