Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2021
Silver and gold
my hands grow cold
as I take it and hold
like life until it's sold
as profit for my soul
dumped into a hole.
William J Donovan
Written by
William J Donovan  75/M/Charlotte, NC
(75/M/Charlotte, NC)   
52
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems