My latest five-line original poem.
Puff
you walked through a field littered with my weeds,
holding back a puff of your hot breath,
preferring to kick at the parachute stems,
and watch as I scattered in disarray;
you made no wishes.
Poem: Puff
Milam's Musings
“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
Milam's Musings 