My evenings,
Quiet and dreary,
Spent, with a book
In my hand
That I hardly read;
A whisky glass on the table,
Waiting for a refill,
Aren't momentous;
I cannot talk about them
Painlessly.
Ennui struck,
I pick up my laptop
To play with,
Steady my mind,
And record my thoughts
Such as these words
Portray.
Not wise words, I say.
A wonderful poem that emanates from trance! Many congratulations
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loveliest said, I like this poem very much,5 Stars! Sad and melancholy yet brilliantly worded in its simpleness. Truly marvelous poem, most deserving as TMPOTD Congrats!