“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, April 29, 2016
Winning the Lottery
Wealth is having more than you need.
I, too, am guilty of this.
I must confess,
I have laundered some change,
this week.
The same exact six cents
I keep finding in different denim jeans.
And when I think about it,
having an extra six
sense-may not be worth anything
solid, except an extra thought-
that buys a cents of monetary health.
Image By Elembis (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tres (trace)
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
No comments:
Post a Comment