Treasures from my backpack
I was searching for a pencil this morning in my backpack. While reaching around inside the deep darkness of my oversized bag I discovered this poem. I must have wrote it in the fall. Enjoy.
The gold is gone.
In the night the thief came.
His cold breath stole them away.
Here one day and gone tomorrow.
Gone are the colors.
Red, yellow, orange, and brown.
Revealed is death.
Gray.
The gold is gone.
In the night the thief crept in.
His cold breath fills the night.
Piece by piece you can hear him putting
A coin in his coffer.
Gone in the night.
I should have treasured them more.
I could have pt these coins in the bank.
Now they are gone.
posted by Hugh @ 10:29 AM
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