The sorry umbrella slumps sadly toward the ground.
It's body as cold as the wet night air.
The malleable aluminum handle, bent out of shape,
By the wind that's tossed it round,
To and fro like the arms of teenage kids,
And unsure of how else to rest,
With the metallic moonlight singing its melodic lullaby.
-N.C.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
The sorry umbrella slumps sadly toward the ground.
It's body as cold as the wet night air.
The malleable aluminum handle, bent out of shape,
By the wind that's tossed it round,
To and fro like the arms of teenage kids,
And unsure of how else to rest,
With the metallic moonlight singing its melodic lullaby.
-N.C.
