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michael-johnPoems
i now,whose the ****** lily,this confrontation is such a bore.. there is no wine as sweet as thirst ( to paraphrase edna st.vincent millay) little mr. thought for the day- a potato is a potato.. ii well that was lunch inspiration is rather dry to some petulant spring such is day three of the fiesta.. iii but here anyway.. iv i would rather dig my own grave with a numbered spoon then go to a bbq.. v sooner play the blues than go on a cruise vi better loose both knees then visit disney.. vii lily leave me stop this carousing the love tree has become winter then our spring lost and gone when blossom hung sweet and glittering in the free summer found us in sundry doldrums pitched again to the  roots of done.. autumn now the golden days lay like a stone where we sought ourselves anew.. toward the equinox of our o and to no where particular but love  and now we me yo..
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
now,whose
i now,whose the ****** lily,this confrontation is such a bore.. there is no wine as sweet as thirst ( to paraphrase edna st.vincent millay) little mr. thought for the day- a potato is a potato.. ii well that was lunch inspiration is rather dry to some petulant spring such is day three of the fiesta.. iii but here anyway.. iv i would rather dig my own grave with a numbered spoon then go to a bbq.. v sooner play the blues than go on a cruise vi better loose both knees then visit disney.. vii lily leave me stop this carousing the love tree has become winter then our spring lost and gone when blossom hung sweet and glittering in the free summer found us in sundry doldrums pitched again to the  roots of done.. autumn now the golden days lay like a stone where we sought ourselves anew.. toward the equinox of our o and to no where particular but love  and now we me yo..
Written by
michael-john
62/M/SPAIN
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
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