A Poets Words On A Sunday Night Poem by Andrew Rose

Somehow… I needed to write,
And this of all is an unfortunate night
Pulled from a home of warmth and grace
To one called family,
A forced loving place.

One phone call could change it all,
Hear that happiness rise and fall,
But no shes sick and I find myself,
Searching for a love that’s not loves sake,
Even though I know its there,
Its still in its place.

So in this night between N-C-E-A,
Where the future seems bleak and so far away,
I wallow a pity that could be felt for all,
This sticky Auckland adds to the drawl.

And to help this remember,
Its melodramatic taste,
Its just the end of the year, im wishing for more
My lifes no worse than the places of poor