Another Thought On Peeling Paint

Sometimes I have more ideas about a subject than will fit into one poem. So I write another one. This poem is related to the haikus I did a little while ago – read them here if you like.

But here’s the poem.

Unspeaking

Quiet as the flake of peeling paint
hanging from the ceiling
as the still green leaves
of the pot-bound plant
as the scarred old desk
and its mismatched chair
as the pictures hanging on the wall
the dust along the baseboards
the envelopes in their box
as the narrow floorboards
when no one steps upon them
the white-painted door
when no one opens it

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3 thoughts on “Another Thought On Peeling Paint

  1. That’s what makes us unique, special–I think if we all could appreciate the little things, like peeling paint, it might be a nicer, happier world.

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