
I woke up this morning and grey was the dawn.
I sighed and I shuffled as the coffee got warm.
A chat with the cat revealed nothing at all;
her air quite snooty, her humor too droll.
Pushing aside the morning news
I gaze out the window in search of a muse.
Twenty years hence and still they speak not;
entombed somewhere in realms forgot.
Twenty! and yet four more
I lend my soul to this unwritten lore.
It often occured when was not the time
though not for want of meter nor lack of rhyme.
No. More often than not no thoughts availed
thus the writing of this poem failed.


Salon.com
Comments
My cat sucks too.
she did help write the poem though
we liked this one lots
R~
I would have a talk with Andy if this was otherwise. Good job
Rated
rated:)
Rated.