Monday, June 6, 2016

Lost





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' blues...you choose why:)

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