Fore Ate
The walls are close
Rough to the touch
Familiar friends
I can talk to again
The cot creaks
As I rise reluctant
Or lay down exhausted
A single light extinguished
Without my say.
Fore Ate
The walls are close
Rough to the touch
Familiar friends
I can talk to again
The cot creaks
As I rise reluctant
Or lay down exhausted
A single light extinguished
Without my say.
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing