Sunday, June 26, 2016

under the shady tree

what's new
doesn't stay new
for long.
a dent a ding, a scrape,
soon followed
by the dulled sheen,
the weathered
shine
of once
shiny paint. still
you try
to keep love
new,
parking beneath
the shady tree, going
at it with
hands
and polish,
the chamois cloth.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

good poem nice wording