Its Pilfered Seed
I steal a little line
From here …or ….there
A half a quote
Still in its underwear
Then weave these words
Into a threaded quilt
Sign my name
Feel a bit of guilt
For without straw
The bricks
Are just wet silt.
So, mix your mortar thick
Feed passion’s need
To hide within its grip
Its pilfered seed.
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2023
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