Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2010
Whenever I see
Mothballs rolling over
To sublime inside
The ***** of
My closet,

I reach in
And touch its coarseness,
The roughness of size;

How come it withdrew
Itself to the world
By shrinking its
Speculations.

Strange though,
but a thought
Came to my mind:

Its state
Is similar
To a feat
Such as mine.
Written by
Dennis Go
849
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems