Circle Of Gold Poem by Joe Howell
Circle Of Gold
wayward words spilling from heated lips
'you did's' floating in and out
'but if', pushing in every now and then
why not just pack up and leave
after the papers, what comes now?
where to start from zero, at forty
is there a supermarket of flesh
where one can pick, the best, throw the spoils to the wind?
the thing that stays with me is the
ring on the left hand
now it's just an empty circle of gold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:08:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
