Busy day. Too tired to work on anything faintly resembling a prompt. Determined as I am to post a poem a day this month, here goes:
Salad Days
never
we thought
we hoped
Rip Van Winkle days
we're just waking up now
and all around us
birds are singing
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2 comments:
The rewards of older age???
We've both been listening to the birds, it seems.
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