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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 2024
Salad
It's at the point of no return
when you have to decide
if you'd rather
bury your head in the sand,
or go forward and ride
into the storm.
The signposts all splinter
and Winter is lost
turn on the heating and
bugga the cost.
If
I'm crying
blame it on the onions
that I'm peeling
or on time
that is stealing me away.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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61
Mister Truth
,
Weeping willow
and
Falling Up
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