WAYWARD GLASSES
As I lay there on my bed,I thought I heard a noise.
I'd never heard before;
It was my glasses,
Scouring across the floor.
Didn't see where they were going,
I wasn't wearing them for sure.
I wonder what they were looking for,
I'm afraid they wouldn't say.
It would be strange if they could,
If thought that to this day.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
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Written on 2024-09-02 at 14:11
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