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Mitten MAG
Every year he gets tossed aside to bake in the heat of the attic
Pressed against others of his species with no room to breathe.
Out of rage he would give you the finger, but all of his are sewn together.
As time passes, the day approaches when he will be reborn.
At a time of cold, he will again be able to work
and share the warmth that he has collected in his entrails of yarn.
© Anonymous
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This article has 2 comments.
Roccojb said...
on Sep. 30 2009 at 4:19 pm
i really like this poem good job.
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