My porch is wet.
It's just a drizzle.
Far away ice mountains
and my malt on the rocks-
sizzle-
quietly in my head,
they sound distant.
I close my eyes,
and feel oozy.
Life is getting slower.
It's languor.
I am just a bit high,
but warm in the chill
as the sun dips behind.
Whiskey clinks on ice,
I smile and say,
'hey,
I am with you
tonight.'
It's languor.
3 comments:
Aku wants to know what type of poem it is. He is learning in his classes about them.
These are random thoughts. I have selected few chords (on the guitar) and composed a song.
and its bliss!?
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