Like a paperback <br />With yellow pages <br />And a broken spine <br />Or a corkscrew <br />That’s unleashed <br />A staggering amount of wine. <br />Like some Levi’s <br />That look worn in <br />When they’re nearly worn through <br />Or steep stone steps <br />Bowed <br />By a billion shoes. <br />Like a teddy bear <br />Threadbare <br />From years of love. <br />Like a park bench <br />Polished by <br />The bottoms above. <br />Like a fork <br />Out of shape <br />From so much food eaten <br />Or bowling shoes <br />Baggy from <br />Too many feet in. <br />Like Doc Martins <br />With soles <br />In their sixth incarnation <br />And Play Doh <br />Gone grey <br />From repeated creation. <br />Like a piano, <br />With cracked ivory <br />From tickling the ears. <br />Like a face <br />Creased and crumpled <br />From smiling for years. <br />Like a doorbell <br />That’s faulty <br />From too many guests <br />Like a jukebox <br />Out of order <br />From constant requests. <br />I love things <br />That action <br />Has worn away. <br />I pray that <br />I end up <br />Just like that one day.<br /><br />Dave Birss<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-2/
