Saturday, May 18, 2024

A Desert

My brain is a desert

Today; I can’t lie.

There’s nothing to write of,

Although I can try.

 

The walk by the river?

The foods I did eat?

The book I just finished?

The crossword complete?

 

The shoes I discarded

Since new ones arrived?

The plants freshly watered,

Surprised they’ve survived?

 

I guess that the desert

Some cacti call home

And that is the reason

I’ve written this poem.

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