Poezja

An out-of-tune harmony
Embarassing sound in its entrirety

A shabby, dented car
Coughing for fuel

A sturdy stage floor turned into a trap door
As it collapses under innocent feet

A cold stone monument that
Topples like mature timber

A prancing deer, sipping spring water
Shot, blown dead

A tall scaffold
Crumbling like biscuits in hand

A fishing boat
Eaten up by a hungry wave

This is what my day is like