ABC
Start of the month feeling cold,Start of the July getting old.
Got my nodad cardigan on,
Can't remember were
I bought it from.
Usually day woke in the morn,
Wondering why I had been born.
Jumped up got out of bed,
Rhymes of the day,
Rolled around my head.
Picking up a pen I want to write,
But there's not a rhyme inside.
Even though the ideas are there,
There's nothing left to feed the abc
That rolled around within my head,
It's almost as though the abc's are dead.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 104 times
Written on 2022-07-05 at 01:07
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