dressed up in pink and grey
put every sound into a bag
and carried them away.
The screaming or the baby having fun.
The slashing of the shower.
The creaking or the chair.
The purring of the cat.
And the popping or the bathtub.
The cracking of the chocolate.
The snoring of the father.
The nagging of the mother.
The drumming of the music while
they run away.
The burning of the toast.The frying of the eggs.
The cutting of the bacon.
And the steaming of the pot.A stranger called this morning
He didnt leave his name
Left us only silence
Life will never be the same
By Paris Munro
1 comments:
What a wonderful poem Paris!
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