Friday, March 27, 2009

POEM: Shelf Life

Poetry doesn't keep
you can't put it on hold

that first thought
can't be put aside
it must be written down quickly
lest it fly away

The trail must be followed
leading you to the end
or you will get hopelessly lost
and never find your way again

Poetry is a dish best served hot
it goes bad quickly
one millisecond past the expiration date
and it is spoiled
barely resembling it's original form

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