Warm and muggy rain
Night-light on the house
Shines on fading blooms
Of pinkish hues
Death comes soon
And the bloom is no more
A gull flew over and with a feather, dropped a note on a little boat. It said:
“Dear Sailor, the oars are filthy on that little dingy, not even the surf can clean up that dirt. You left your mast up and overstressed the hull, dumb thinking the ocean will always be at a lull.”
I probably need to do more of these since I go on “stealth mode” so frequently.
I would like to say that I’ve been at a loss for words but that’s not entirely true. Putting them into complete thoughts to convey a point is where I am really having difficulty as of late.
I usually get a picture in my head or take a picture of something in real life, but the motivation is not there.
So, to get the ball re-rolling, I just checked back in with this short post.
Thanks for indulging me😉
Some days all you have is a view of the trees at sunset or sunrise. The rest of the day is filled with sickness and broken sleep maybe some food in between.
But everyday the trees breathe. As do we. The lucky ones I guess.
There is a sunrise and a sunset which the trees always see.
And all we have is a view of the trees.
I can’t wait for you, Not right now at least.
I’m double-parked and too broke to pay the parking ticket.
It’s not a boot but a lead weight they’ll tie to my car.
Use another road or find a city street but don’t leave that trouble for me.