Learn more about other poetry terms

It's so hard for us to operate. We're broken machines. There must be a kink in our wires, or rust in our rings.   Tarnished metal and bent-up parts. You're my tin man and I'm your tin girl.
Friendship is an apple tree – In spring it sprouts its tender, green shoots With a gardener’s soft, whispering touch In summer it flourishes: Strong, brown branches clothed in a silk green garment
Subscribe to extendedmetaphor