Sally Plumb Plumb
This is no revealation,
this mawkish feeling,
warm and helpless.
you know the reason?
This is a season
unknown to Spring...
an emergance through
the permafrost of thought
into a softening.
Caught in this baby glow
of ridiculous languor...
I reach for my bottle.
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Comments about this poem (Languor by Sally Plumb Plumb )
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