Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
This wind blows like steel From the cotton fields Across my backyard. My hand holds a cold metal Object. It is sharp, Shiny But old. Its a picture frame Holding a memory Of youth, love, and happiness. - I am old and alone now. ©Jack Aylward, 28/11/11
0
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
Time Moves In Many Ways
This wind blows like steel From the cotton fields Across my backyard. My hand holds a cold metal Object. It is sharp, Shiny But old. Its a picture frame Holding a memory Of youth, love, and happiness. - I am old and alone now. ©Jack Aylward, 28/11/11
jack-stuart-aylward
Written by
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem