A Summer Drought
No verse or vision
no poems to tout.
I`ve no creation
ideas to spout.
I scratch my head
and sit about.
Shooting blanks
I curse and pout.
Then just like that
I feel the clout.
Imagery flows
in colorful sprouts.
Riddles and rhymes
no artistic drought.
I just picked up my pen
and forgot about trout.
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
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