Poetry Blogs (effluent)
I worked all through the Winter,
on my Swan, then it got dashed in water,
a cruel joke from some playmate or other,
sadly it didn't float, but neither even would
my flimsy boat (one would imagine).
Trouble was the books were too old,
too fusty, specialised;
I grabbed them from the library eager
only to arrive back home and within five minutes
had lost patience...
Friday 24th August 2018 10:54 pm