There may not be laughter tonight.
No trickles of glee,
no short sighted promises
or sneak away corner encounters.
Time to shun prying eyes
no matter the close proximity
they wish for or think they
are so entitled.
Tired tears are soaking
the window panes.
Battered blues looking south,
yearning
for rain.
There is a drought in these parts
and slowly,
she is turning to ash.
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2 comments:
I agree. It is spring, anyways; it's bound to come forth.
Sometimes you just have to water your lawn. Can't always rely on nature to take care of things for you.
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