To write this poem
I thought and thought,
I sought, I
wrought
rot.
I got squat. Here
I sit with nothing
coming
or going,
showing.
To write this poem
I moan
droan on n'on
my own,
groan.
Dawn has gone. There
is now ledge
a wedge, a
hedge
sun lit edge.
Kinda pretty.
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1 comment:
Hey! Nice poem. I like all the witty wordplay.
Not rot, your thought caught. Beguiled, I smiled. :-)
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