AN INANIMATE OBJECTS LIFE
An inanimate object doesn't think,
It cannot close it's eyes to blink.
Or come into the shade,
On a hot summers day.
When it wants to take a drink,
Neither does it lose itself in thought;
For the odd or even hour.
Never worries about getting wet,
When caught in the proverbial
Doesn't hunger for a slice of bread,
Or gets hurt by what they said.
Never feels emotional or alone,
Waiting lingering by the phone.
No one calls day after day,
Not having to worry about.
What they may never say,
Doesn't Wish for the end of days.
But then again what heck,
I wish I was an inanimate object .
The inanimate object never weeps,
Gets transposed in thoughts.
Not once does it feel overwrought,
About other inanimate objects.
Or does it?.
No the inanimate object never weeps,
Just closed its imaginary eyes.
At the end of another day,
And went back to sleep.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
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Written on 2022-08-13 at 09:41
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