Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
In the copper and oil scented garage, I find my time The door groans, and the cold doesn’t sting like before With every 9-3 Saturday, another week runs though my hands I’ll try to hold on, but these oil slicked hours slip through again and again
0
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 5:33 PM UTC
Kickoff
In the copper and oil scented garage, I find my time The door groans, and the cold doesn’t sting like before With every 9-3 Saturday, another week runs though my hands I’ll try to hold on, but these oil slicked hours slip through again and again
AB_
Written by
17/F/virginia
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 5:33 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem