Feb 2021
When words are often things to stumble on
And fly when touched to far away dark caverns
There is no witches broom to sweep
The sentence fragments into something sane.
ljm
And fly when touched to far away dark caverns
There is no witches broom to sweep
The sentence fragments into something sane.
ljm
I thought I was fine after that little brain bleed last year, but my vast supply of words went into hiding and I'm more crippled than if I lost the use of an arm or a leg - which I didn't.
(F/Laughlin, Nevada)
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
