deepundergroundpoetry.com

Blueness

Sometimes tea
doesn't cure all, the house a state,    
mind a quarry  
once a mound  
for springtime to burrow,    
it's been said  
I'll quiver at the    
touch  
of too much kindness,    
too few apologies.  
I also try to plant bulbs  
in places with plenty
of light,  
blue screen buzzing,    
stolen twenties,    
but there's no way to connect these days without
'online',  
I tell myself that,
all the while, her eyes on mine.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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