Grip, a poem

GRIP

 

I lost my grip on reality,

it slipped right down to the floor;

I tried to catch it and put it back

but it ran out the door!

I am too tired to chase it again,

I think I’ll let it go;

from now on I’ll just make stuff up—

I doubt anyone will know!

 

Stephen Brooke ©2023

 

a bit of light verse I dashed off in a couple minutes this morning