Ink Dried

There was once a busy poet called Ried
Whose muse fondling hands his angry wife tied 
Motionless at night on bed
He muttered poems instead
Wife wasn’t happy though ink in his pen dried.

June 9, 2021
Contest : The Poet's Hands Are Tied
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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Mcintosh Avatar
June 10, 2021 at 3:47 AM
Tied indeed? So sad - especially sad for the pen... God bless you friend. Love, Gina
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