by Michael H. Brownstein
Everything you wear,
you wear to its grave,
your gray stockings
a small hole near the big toe,
its color an undistinguished gray
your shirt with a stain
your pants frayed at the bottom,
a rip in one pocket,
change falling freely
creating melodies you are always
too busy to hear.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing