LOVE ON THE FACTORY FLOOR
Bright are the lights from the factory floor,
Rusted the latch on the furnace door,
Nothing but dust in the bottom drawer.
Where will she find the route to the sea,
Bandage her leg with a bag of tea,
Lie in the sun by a silver tree.
Why does he wait for the blossom to bloom,
Open the letter that lies in his room,
Sleep in the vacancy left by perfume?
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Monorhyme
Sunday, November 28, 2010
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