above sorrow

Sitting down on a plastic boat,

floating on four legs on the floor,

leaning back rolling the years

seemingly reliving my eternal fears,

looking up to see athe golden twirl

of the rotor or motor doing the twirl

bits of gold and brown combine

like a pretty picture of grime in a gold mine

the shiny brass fooling all below

dangling like a grape above sorrow

then came the woosh of wind bringing alive

the feeling of melancholy that had engulfed the room.

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About dairyman

A cat in a man's body who loves dogs. View all posts by dairyman

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