Phone booth

Wed, 11/25/2015 - 21:04 -- bewhoUR

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
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