Fortified
love has a heavy price,
time demands its toll,
ephemeral the bonds
wanton mortality stole
he's in bed, very poorly,
I feel he might be dying,
lucozade's not working,
I hear only weak crying
yet he's had a good life,
for after all, he had me,
swains I rued when he
went down on his knee
long years I devoted
to what is my inferior,
he never had...
Wednesday 21st April 2021 10:58 am
Recent Comments
Holden Moncrieff on No-place.
8 minutes ago
John Coopey on SLIMMING WORLD
13 minutes ago
M.C. Newberry on DISPARITY
1 hour ago
kJ Walker on Haiku Parenthood
3 hours ago
kJ Walker on SLIMMING WORLD
3 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on SLIMMING WORLD
6 hours ago
Pete (edbreathe) on Happy daze
7 hours ago
John Coopey on SLIMMING WORLD
7 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Young Man, Dancing
7 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Wednesday Diary
10 hours ago