Her laughter in the kitchen sounded like
it had learnt the language of eucalyptus.
Then, Miss Kay asked why clouds don’t fall.
I said something about warmth and altitude,
but thought of grace instead.
This morning I read from Ecclesiastes,
then wrote half a stanza about shadows falling inward.
The kettle hissed, I answered.
Not the poem— but the Day.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 1st, 2025 04:07
- Comment from author about the poem: Sometimes poetry gets wrapped around the daily movements in our lives.... well, perhaps more than sometimes.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
A very poetic morning indeed. Quite a beautiful start to the day. great poem. Well done
yay! first comment 🤩 glad you liked amigo🕊️🙏🏻
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