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Wrong or Write

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Still no Window, Still no Whiskey. Still no Mountain, Still no Glade. Still no Rustic Bench or Rickety Table. No Oil Lamp, No Hand Whittled Pen. No Daydreams Wafting 'n Wefting; Curling Heavenward, Mingledancing with Tobacco Scents. No Time Sense, Such as with Such Contemplatives, Such as with Surrenderers to Fate...Much as with The Untired Retired. I suffer from Idylolatry and Idleolatry. I suffer from I suffer from ...and yet, I write.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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