For this day
But when I woke
They went away
to recall
what thought remained
Both large and small
Was in vain
Of those notions
No trace remain
This I fear
To lose ideas
That I hold dear
If they were they'd not abate
They'd have stayed till they were needed
So without them I'm not defeated)
More poetry. I'm starting to wonder if I'm in the right field...
This wasn't the intended output for today, but, as the poem suggests, what I wanted to do wasn't with me just yet. Better to think the grapes were sour than they were ambrosia...
1 comment:
I've said it many times before, but poetry just shoots right past me without slowing down (once it threw a styrofoam cup at me, though).
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