Quixote Posted November 1, 2015 Share Posted November 1, 2015 Apologies to those who hate blank verse. Just posting this before the night's vision slips away from my mind. Self inflicted therapy and all that. Wandering the would haves Were it not fors (kicking dust bunnies of regret dust streaming in eyes) Corner turned that wasn?t Cinnamon scented living room where We-- I-- No longer live (burnt bottom cookies that memory mutters she never made) She tried But She never could Cook Nor I make tea (loose leaf Yorkshire steeped three minutes kettle to the pot black only always thanks) Greying hair She never had But wanted We are Just there With burnt cookies And terrible tea (sun scratching at window dog stirring softly sleeping still in the space of not now) We are Where we never were But It?s what we have Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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