Thursday, 10 November 2016

Kettle's Boiling. Poem

There's a crackle from the kettle,
boiling for one
A bitterness in the tea, made too strong,
stewed too long
while I thought about you
an unfocused gaze, towards a black window
the garden is lost at this time of year
I think, somewhere, there's a book to write
but ideas are lost, like my thoughts
in the recess of my mind

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