Thread: Sandbox

A poem I had to write out of the blue for class participation. Before you read it however, I would like to say that it was based on a poem that someone had written. The author gave the non living items characteristics of a human. Thus, personification. The poem was about the objects of an abanodoned farmhouse telling their perspective on what happened. There was a man who lived there, a woman, and a child. One of the objects that was in the poem was the sandbox. So I made a poem about it. Here goes:

Sandbox

Sitting here alone, with no one to please,
covered in filth, for others to tease.
The child has left, along with its father;
Nothing else left for my insides to bother.

Sick of being trampled on,
covered in rain..
Catching a cold, living in vain.
Feeling left out from nature's playful ways -
birds singing in the trees, wind blowing in a daze.

What's to become of me?
There's no reason left to live.
The child has left.
There's nothing else to give.

Days once filled with happiness
are now turned gray.
Bright colors and toys
have all faded away.

My insides - abandoned, no little kid cheers.
They've sat there to rot, no more ringing in my ears.
Alas a snowflake comes to sight, ending fall's crude history;
leaves me thinking of the future, and its inevitable misery.