Category: Poetry
An Infatuating Adoration 1.0
I rise early in the winter, Barely more than a white wisp of breath, For when the sun sleeps, I am made And I spy her pirouetting in the glades. […]... Read More
“What is the nature of your concern?”
Does she dinnae how to clean? If this keeps up I’ll have to be mean, Dirty dishes left on the side, She needs a kick up her behind! Does […]... Read More
Frau Deliverer
My toes have blisters, my socks have holes, This thick skirt won’t keep out the cold, I pass windows framing glowing fires, Carts roll over cobbles, drawn by shires. […]... Read More
Found Poetry, York
It is One-Thirty in York, A Tuesday in September, The sun is warm, With a lecture to remember. Instructed to watch – Like a hawk up high – All the […]... Read More- 2 of 2
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