Tuesday, April 20, 2021

Poem

 It IS after all, poetry month


What depression tastes like

 

 

It rhymes with silver

It rhymes with orange

You sit

Clutching

A cup of coffee

Gone unredeemably cold

It seems like years

But it’s only been minutes

Since the cliché sun

Broke through the cliché clouds

And the wooden birds

Sang.


1 comment:

  1. Well, Robyn, APril is also National Library Month! If you want depressing, write a poem about LAPL!
    ANONYMOUS (HA HA HA HA)
    AKA Tom

    ReplyDelete

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