Black Friday Poem by Claire Doble
Black Friday
the final smell of roses
late autumn wind
trams clank machinery and
waft bygone ages at me.
I'm thinking about excess
consumerism
all those Black Friday bargains
unwanted
shelves full of unread library books
piles of fallen leaves
and where does snow go?
no… not those last three.
when our needs are met, we look to art
we're shopping instead
Friday, February 17, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: shopping,art,autumn
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5/2/2024 7:44:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
