Poem -
Minutes turn to hours🌚
She is a creature of the night in her lilac dressing gown
Waiting for minutes to turn to hours as she paces up and down
Out of bed and through the hall wearing a weary frown
Tip toeing on the tartan carpet green, blue and brown...
~
And she hears the howling hoolie
as it whistles through those woods
Amidst an eerieness of creepiness
with it’s meloncholy moods
But this scenario isn’t unusual as yon spooky shadows deludes
Betwixt the blackness of bleakest battles until the darkness concludes...
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Comments
wonderful poem
to bad you cant sleep
Lol ay such is life ❤️💕❤️
Awww I am beginning to think it is the minds from us writer’s my lovely Cherie lol & there’s nothing we can change from our awesome imaginations 🥰😘😍
Thanks Jill for writing and sharing your well written and absorbing poem,
one I can relate to. I hope you find solace and comfort in the wee small hours
and I also hope Mr Sandman makes a longer visit too.
Hang in there and I wish you well, I will read more of your poems tonight,
In the meantime one day at a time and one deserved kip at a time (if possible!!)
Take care and thanks again.
Awww Thanks so much for reading my ditties you are so kind ❤️💙❤️