Pooetry. Not a misspell.

Moonlight and shadows
Softly together
Like lovers
Moving
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.

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About staggeringduck

Look, I'm just awesome ok?
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