air
tortuous nibbling on calendarswithering in minds
shifting sands and syllables
in long good nights
where tools are not needed
nor described in the halls
of shattered aftermath
tankard after handled tankard
slides and slithers
where wild men do right
just to justify the final stanza
where we all just give up
with intense pillow talk
and more dark ale
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2015-01-18 at 00:48
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Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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