A RUSTY BUCKET

by Anonymous

I'm like a rusty bucket
forgotten by time
no use to man or beast
left in the corner
with nettles around my feet.

Blowing winds,
blinding snow
a sun that blisters deep
and as the seasons pass into years
a rusty bucket has the upper hand
for it just sits.

While I must sit and dwell,
but I am like a rusty bucket
empty broken and incomplete.