A Collection Of Air
in the box of memories
under my bed
the doll lay quiet
a small sigh, so silent
escaped her ruby lips
confined in the box of memories
she was quite alone
but happy
sometimes she cries
sometimes she smiles
and whispers
the word she was forbidden to
utter, the word to bring
the world crashing down about
our heads
whispers, sometimes
sometimes she shouts it out
but who will hear her?
for she is trapped in the box of memories
full of my thoughts and wishes
alone
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
A Collection Of Air, which
was posted on Dec 5, 2009 by
Lazur.
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