Tired
If eyes are mirrors of the soul
My soul is red and saggin'
I think my brain went on a stroll
And for sure my tails a draggin'
I'm a chicken that's out of clucks
An old wall missing its mortar
Some might feel like a million bucks
I'm more like a buck and a quarter!
Soon sweet slumber I will embrace
As I quietly drift to dream land
Rejuvenating, I keep this place
In the palm of my wrinkled hand!
Copyright © Pat Adams | Year Posted 2018
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