My latest five-line, original poem.
Apropos song while poeming:
Put it back, put it back, put it where you found it
Put it back, put it back, put it where you found it
Shell
i pick up the shell of you on the dying beach
before the gray waves can pull you back.
listen: silence; its own siren song to our past,
breeding in the gaps where memories fade,
and i, too, become a shell, disparate of myself.
Milam's Musings 