Auld Lang Syne
bottled up together
with you, minding
my business,
the cool
fall turning
into winter,
for the first time.
a deep long summer has lead
to exhaustion,
a turning, a new place:
where I can't explain
why I ever
felt the way I did before.
Several Species of Small Furry Writers Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict.
1 Comments:
This is a wonderful poem, Rob. Don't lose the knack. You'll be a poet laureate some day.
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