Friday, March 6, 2015
Seeking solutions
Tantrums, tears, negotiations.
The tantrums weren't mine.
You can guess about the tears.
Negotiations? Or something like.
He always said he doesn't negotiate.
Meanwhile, as offerings, two poems.
Blue snow beneath a bright full moon.
Beyond that -
who the hell knows.
I need some sleep.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment