Quiet cutting sounds throughout
Sterling silver’s perfect glint
Prison places dealing doubt
Depressed and Dying for a stint
Frigid forests working lines
Waking where Aurora grows
Awful astral dyn’sty mined
Depressed or Dying, no one knows
“Never, nothing” resultant phrase
Rested wretched boring dope
Brightened Belle of daring praise
Depressed, not dying; I can cope
[ poem ]
I have always loved poems about fruit. Great Post.