Wednesday, March 1, 2023

Grip, a poem


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

No comments:

Post a Comment