040310f Would You Be Like My Golfballs
stinging on my toes
i know i must be sitting
here for so long or i'm not
doing it properly, pinching
nerves; that's what they say
i'll walk a few steps; i'm okay
my golf balls are gathering
in the corner as if converging
conspiring to go against me
but so far nobody attempted
to jump and hit me on the head
although i putt them so often
after i'm done i get clean-wipe
they could feel my warm hand
watch me so happy hitting a cup
after that i leave them alone
is your love life close enough to that
minimum attention but never thrown out
poem by Manonton Dalan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.