Poem -
Rearranging Forks
she came rushing
her winds a'lifting lace cloth
skirts
a'fussing, softly cussing
rearranging forks
Fiddling with napkin rings and
other bits and silly things
Her hands as gnarled as ancient
wood, her hair freyed into wisps
that could
Not stay in place with any grace
Or flatter a so worn out face, a
face that valued napkin rings and
Other bits of silly things, and so
her minutes ticked on by
With no place set or any pie
For her
M P 19/8/22
Like 3 Pin it 1
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Comments
Great write. I like the direction of your work.
Thanks John...greatly appreciated x
How very charming this is to read aloud.......so detailed...with perfect metering to boot!!.......ALL STARS!!....ever the pleasure Miss MARION!!....LOVE & ROCKETS!!....T xo : )
Bless you Tony...thanks x
the pin was not a reflex but a well reasoned, worthy and well intentioned award for the smile your Rearranging Forks is responsible for x
Ha...glad it brought a smile my friend, they are rare and precious things that luckily amazon supply's ...and I'm just about to order some 🙃🙂😊 X
If there's any going spare ... am asking for a friend x
Not today my friend...I will do.my best twm X