as a lilting song rises from plucking on harp-like strings

perhaps tomorrow

done and dusted, deplorable stink
anxious cereal bowl filled to the brink
whose talk is faster than walking

height of vulgarity, hidden ingenuity
missed passes prelude missed opportunity
and flies stick petrified on shadowed ceiling

Poetry by arquious
Read 520 times
Written on 2016-10-16 at 12:23

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JK Fisher
perhaps, your tomorrow might be filled with kindness,
with wonderment, and with a soft sunrise to melt your heart.
perhaps you soul is resting easily at the top of a winters

always cross the wind with your face burning in it's wake;
and let your tomorrows be guided by the child in your soul.