If it wasn't, then it is,
As it stands, the morose, lonely
Neck of a flower that once bloomed,
And while it rests,
A forgotten piece, nestled in
The wastes of a field
That bore it, stiffened
By rime without a reason.
-
Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: December 10th, 2023 04:38
- Comment from author about the poem: Hello everyone, just stopping by to drop this off. A lot has happened since I last posted, and unfortunately I can't get into it. Still working on the book though. Hope you all are doing well.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments2
You used that spellchecker? Rime? heehee. Cooeee, I'm still here! lol.
Haha, glad you're still around ole' buddy
Good to see you back Nicholas with such fine words.
Andy
Thanks much Andy. Glad to see you're still around and writing too, been keeping up with your wise words!
Thank you Nicholas.
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