300 Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Take away this morning grieve
All is inside its lonely brief
Going on and being still
Promises never to fulfill
Night gone with whispering wind
Rowing voices in the rescind
What comes next who'll know?
Life advances easy fast or slow
Broken promises someone fixed
Chemistries in style mixed
Soaking to my skin and brain
Day or two with its pain
The wicked eyes shape or size
Everything is in its disguise
Smoldering fire stormy fight
Another lonesome hour’s night
Take away those engines now
With its brushing worrying brow
Hooked lopsided burning wild
I'm all through crooked and tiled