Memories of
Broken things and
Past dreams of
Soap and seams,
And all of it seems
To teem with
A neutral shade of
Green
As I sat and
Plucked and preened
Someone, somewhere,
Started to sing,
With the most
Wonderful voice
Almost as if they
Hadn’t a choice…
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
