Weak

With unwitting cruelty, the early sun
Exposes every speck of dirt that lies
Upon the kitchen floor. Weak this
Morning, I can't withstand such abuse.
I close the shades, turn on the light,
And pour some coffee, vowing to avoid
That room until the sun is high.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 116 times
Written on 2019-05-20 at 14:55

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text