Shadows of smoke drift away, thoughts that spoke of a bygone day
Echoes of time, footprints in sand, set in rhyme from a poet's hand
Pages of ash no eye has seen, deemed trash, by years of wind wiped clean
Faded ink on sculptured ice, melt in the sink not leaving puddle or slice
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: December 26th, 2025 02:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
Thank you SB. I'm still horrible, no good will to KP this season nor any season - ahh, an idea for Christmas present for her - nothing of nothing! heehee.
Dunno why she complained yesterday. I gave her something, I suppose - triple helping of sewage for Christmas dinner. This is too kind of me, yes?! lol.
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