Facebook, Instagram
I’m told
Receptacles
Where people hold
Their hopes, their dreams
Their ideal mould
A better them
That might be sold
But all that glitters
Is not gold
No silver lining
To unfold
This public presence
Hollow. Cold
A symptom of
Just growing old.
good one C! ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Facebook, Instagram
I’m told
Receptacles
Where people hold
Their hopes, their dreams
Their ideal mould
A better them
That might be sold
But all that glitters
Is not gold
No silver lining
To unfold
This public presence
Hollow. Cold
A symptom of
Just growing old.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow! What a great poem to come from the prompt ‘glitter’.
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