like those days when all is working well, until the inevitable


teaspill

Up to a point
the leaves will seep
into all the waters
until the cup overflows

so much as to stain
the meticulously starched table linen.
Then we shall face with reckoning
its true substance!




Poetry by arquious
Read 562 times
Written on 2019-09-15 at 12:17

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