Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2021
My memories so wistful,
          As I grab them by the fistful,
Glint with melancholy ire,
          As I throw them in the fire,
And my desperation spurn,
          As I watch them fail to burn.

- p. winter
I learned the word spurn today
Penelope Winter
Written by
Penelope Winter
117
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems