Old Spring

Old Spring

sheds his

husk

his hide

of crackling

leather.

He was 

once

inexperienced

and slick

like rain.

Today

he drops

his arms,

tired from 

sustaining

the spinning

top

where he goes

unnoticed.

He isn't

angry,

just tired

tired

of giving

ready to

let go

of their hands

and watch

tearfully

as they fall 

away. 

It is

tomorrow.

Time for life

is gone

like Spring.

Reviews

[ValyrieKiennan]

Interesting use of free/blank verse. I enjoyed the leather imagery in the opening stanzas, however I do feel that your writing becomes a bit convoluted further on. The frustration by the personified Spring seems to come from some place that is unaccessible to the reader. I would heavily suggest some elaboration here in order to better draw your audience into your work.

Keep up the excellent work;

Cheers!

VK