in february
I liked the way she smelled,
dirty or clean.
same for april thru june
(march was mean, we made do)
the months seem fast like days.
mouths are full, lucky us,
each with a job that pays.
the moth flirts around the flame.
how long does anything last?
all we can do is count the moons.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...