Pooetry. Not a misspell.

Moonlight and shadows
Softly together
Like lovers
Against each other
Silently, slowly
In the night

And the small child walks in to ask “Mom, what are you writing?”  To which I reply, “None of your damn business, sit down and eat your breakfast”

Sniffle, slurrp, cough, and he cranes his head around to peek at the monitor. I would like to poke him in the eye. And the dog starts barking outside, and my coffee is cold, and I look at the clock for the fortieth time and I wonder; will I ever be free? And that’s bad poetry.

About staggeringduck

Look, I'm just awesome ok?
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