Don’t think so much,
When the sand is still warm beneath your feet,
Of busted power generators
If you were meant to toil without fruition
Or what fruition is.
It only matters now that you’ve found
A clear way out,
Options
As you take to the night
To be wasted and thought of,
A slim wastebasket for a book
Of half-hearted poems
To be written
In earnest.
Comments (7)
lovely…
happy new year to you!
a new year it is. resolutions?
taking self less seriously,
dignity and caution to the wind
you?
that’s a good one. i like that.
mine:
drink less
attempt to develop meaningful relationships
write (i hope this is one of yours too!)
cheers to that! may you have success in spades..
Hey Charlie;
I have throw blankets for those times with cold knees. But I suppose a poem can have a similar warming effect.
Happy Gregorian New Year!
Do you also make resolutions for the Chinese New Year?
oscar! i don’t have enough resolve to make another set of resolutions. too bad we couldn’ meet up when i was back in OC, will ring u up the next time come around.