Saw Dust

A Poem by JR

Here I sit with this house

and we rot

like termites eat timber

each day a little softer

each day thinner at the

edges, at the places

we will break like this

old house will I one

day fall into saw

dust.

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Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
But, that's not all, is it?
The place poems like this one come from is not perishable.

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1 Review
Added on July 5, 2020
Last Updated on July 5, 2020

Writing again Interesting times to be living in, kind of a cool time to be a writer and documenting the world. more..