Phone booth
Its sitting in the middle
Of a rustic forest day by day
Dead leaves suround it
Hardly no sound comes out of it
Vines hug everything except the door
In the horizon looking rather dull
Dying to make just one call
For it knows the truth
That abandoned phone booth
In between twigs and leaves
Saluting the surounding trees
No sound from the inside
No sound from the outside
Phone cord chocked by hay
It hopes to live one day
But not everyone knows the truth
Of that old abandoned phone booth
For when it rings
A new dawn it shall bring
This poem is about:
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: