You are …by Ryley

You are Glactus flying through space, trying to find planets to consume.

You are the smell of a rotten apple, just collapsed off an old sapling.

You are Midas, touching everything so it could turn in to solid gold.

You are misconduct Monday, the first day of the school week.

You are a happy husky, strolling down the rocky road.

You are a terrific table, where children sit to create magical stories.

You are Wolverine’s claws, shining in the gleaming sun.

You are the memory, of a life before covid.

You are the end, the end of my poem.