A poem Mundane Monday morningcrack of dawnbehind the yawningand the night dreams are laid stillbornin the artificial light stirring from a broken sleepto an effervescently frothy top adorning the bitter coffee stirring the spoon in the cafetière purring like a waking kittenhe fills his mug half full“…another mundane Monday morning”thinks the foolwho feels his mugsContinue reading “Paper water pistol”
Poetry, and other thoughts, by Darius the Mate
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