“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Monday, August 15, 2016
Always greener
I have been watering the grass,
I have brushed my teeth-wait-yes,
with the water on too long
I have washed my car-
worse I have had it washed.
I have cut the two best roses
for myself by the coffeepot
to smell in the morning.
I have said too much,
I have said nothing at all.
I have flooded the attic-
and the walls may cave
in on me-
but that would be selfishly
about me.
I have sunk to new levels,
as water will often dew.
Image By Leon Brooks [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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