Jukebox

A quadrille poem Thinking thoughtlessly,ideas,often forgotten,if not jotted – Slotted,as gold coins,Let bygones be bygones,But,bygone minds,live on,in written word,Sung,and heard,from the jukebox,of ink and paper,Exhumed,when consumed, Risen,From the soil,voices,Oil,the cogs. Written for dVerse Poets Pub. © Darius the Mate What is life without community? I would love to connect with other nicecissists out there. Reach out, let me knowContinue reading “Jukebox”