Looking on this windy day
I see a paper bag floating,
Beautiful in the sky,
Trying to be free
from this confinment,
Innocence now gone,
Deprived of its use,
Crumpled and wasted,
And why ?
Those reasons mush forgotten,
Only met in sadness,
Where it was once was needed,
But now rejected,
And to never give up,
Fighting to stay,
Having a purpose,
Waiting to be wanted,
To be filled
once more,
But how ?
At the moment of being discarded,
One picks it up,
Recycles it,
And now it starts a new life.
Aug. 1, 2000
By: B.E. Whitehorn & Ardennia Cooper
Author notes
Written January 10th, 2002
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I quite like it, my dear...
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No problem !!!
Glad you enjoyed the write ! -
Really cool. Being recycled is like being reincarnated.
Cool write Sidewinder. Thanx. -
Thank you Pandora !
I'm glad you enjoyed the piece ! -
i feel just like that paper bag ;( i like the poem alot, its very easy going and sad in its own way...
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Thanks Shadow Of Saturn!
I agree !!! -
hehehehe nice poem!!!! simplicity sometimes is the best :)
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