Oxidizing Over The Seasons

Months of stagnation
waiting for strangers to go
by unrecognized

Guilt, not a dry pen,
has left marks that they can see
but not decipher;

It’s hard to shake off
the muted rust from one’s heart
in the depths of spring

About andrewwhiting

A sentimental and sarcastic poet, lover of language, traveling and nature (not a fan of the Oxford comma).
This entry was posted in Haiku, Poem, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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