today i would write,
of the mundane...
the weak tepid tea
place before me.
today i would write,
of the unmatched...
the pile of sock,
singular, but legion,
that grows,
but never lessens.
today i would write,
of the humdrum...
the bills that tap, tap, tap,
incessently, at my brain's
back door.
today i would write,
of the wearisome...
the washing, ironing
and other weekly chores.
today i would write,
of burdens...
but at present,
i have little, to none.
today i would wait,
(im)patiently...
for the morrow to come.
for then,
i would pen...
happy joyous tomes.
but today i write,
of the mundane....
for it seems,
some one, needs must,
give them fair airing...
for the world,
is not all,
loving, lust and
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
today i would write,
of the mundane...
the weak tepid tea
place before me.
today i would write,
of the unmatched...
the pile of sock,
singular, but legion,
that grows,
but never lessens.
today i would write,
of the humdrum...
the bills that tap, tap, tap,
incessently, at my brain's
back door.
today i would write,
of the wearisome...
the washing, ironing
and other weekly chores.
today i would write,
of burdens...
but at present,
i have little, to none.
today i would wait,
(im)patiently...
for the morrow to come.
for then,
i would pen...
happy joyous tomes.
but today i write,
of the mundane....
for it seems,
some one, needs must,
give them fair airing...
for the world,
is not all,
loving, lust and
written, with nat's poem
"too many poems here"
in mind...
hope you enjoy
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