Not the Barbarian Horde

I sank into a funk sometime after breakfast. The weather
Was bleak and cold. A few snowflakes floated without
Resolution above the already-frozen ground. The nation,
Having given up pretending to be civilized, went blindly
Down the path to war behind a cretin. Somewhere
North and west of here, my love was not yet up, not eating
Breakfast, unaware that she, her absence, not the
Antics of the cretins clamoring for war, was what had
Driven me into that funk.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2018-02-05 at 15:46

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
No question the cretins are rampant. Much more legitimate to pine for an unrequited love.