Mad-Libs: A Poem About Home
Walking out into the (an adjective) night
to the sounds of insects and distant
baying. The pack of (a plural noun) lives
across the treeline. Once I left
(a place). I realized it connected
an electrical cord to (something
vital). Upon return, a decade
has (a verb ending in -ed) me
into not-quite-the-same.
Can you ever (a verb)
your molten heart?
3 thoughts on "Mad-Libs: A Poem About Home"
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1. graying
2. coydogs
3. the farm
4. my heart
5. winnowed
6. know
Fun- both the poem and Shaun’s answer.
I like the concept of the poem.