in my sunday morning mews
with views of summers after-thought
through second-hand confetti in a ball.
am in a lemon sorbet mood
where cuts the cringe of northern lights.
my tongue alive with wishes
of an oriental theme.
a gentle breeze of metaphors
too many words that fail my brittle tones
I am all but one. a braver man than this.
there are people here with energetic smiles
who wile away my hours
through trials and tribulations
to run amok left-handed on a flare.
- Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) ( Online)
- Published: June 16th, 2024 02:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 0
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.