Tag Archives: poem

The Test

There was little left of Time His death a gruesome sight, His body butchered in a secret hour In the waking of the night;   There was little left of Thought Throttled with cool, sure hands, No more he breathes … Continue reading

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Ode to lesser joys

To that cheerful mutt who never fails to retrieve promptly And yet it grips still, and oh so firmly, when asked to let go To that gloriously relieving sneeze that comes finally after Countless feverish breaths are held only for … Continue reading

Posted in The Stories in My Head, The Watering Hole | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment