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Click hereThe red paint on our deck is now peeling,
And the swing is rotting away on rusty screws.
Chirp, chirp chirp.
Hello, magnificence that was forgotten.
Hello.
Thank you LeBroz for retrieving such a magnificent "pure poetry"(don't ask me for definitions) for us from the archives!
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 36,000 poems.
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theres a bottle of Old Grandad's and an ancient magnolia tree wilting in the heat...thanks.
last two lines make this poem universal, an ethereal ceiling built upon the concrete base of the beginning set up.
the chirping I could live without
stick around, we are waiting for what is next...
annaswirls