Poem -
Clouded
I am head hanging low
At evening's early hour,
A miserable, useless pile of flesh
Now that loves taste is sour,
Rain on my face
Dark storm of soul
Clouded mind of once joyous space
So quick the weather transitions hot to cold.
I wait a hopeful heart
For love's button to hit refresh,
Fan the fog of the overheating brain
Blood runs, heating to your touch
Make useful my flesh, again.
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Comments
Hey D!!........I think they have meds at the pharmacy for this condition! (lol!)..........I'm sorry, I shouldn't make light of this........it's obvious that something is really bothering you here..........always does when Love begins to sour..........I like the way you used weather terminology to maintain continuity...........strong write bro!!.......... all stars ...........T xo
T I take no offense you can joke me cause I can take a joke lol, didn't want to say it the other way. Thanks for stopping by and giving me those stars man always appreciative of your comments.