Monday, June 6, 2016


It is boredom, not borne in hands
And thundered hiddenness
That mimics sea swept over sands
…staid repetitiveness
It whispers words like ‘woe is me’
And bleeds a blue-toned sigh
And only keeps the company
Of me, myself and I

© Janet Martin

a bit o' choose why:)

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.