Tag: Song
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The Quiet Tide
Some mornings, even sunlight feels too far; Her thoughts crowd close, a restless, tangled jar.
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The Restless Fool
Now evening falls gently on streets that he knows, And time, like a river, continues and flows.
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What Happened to Frank?
Frank, where did all your poetry go?It vanished like socks in the laundry below.Your sonnets once sparkled, your couplets could sing—Now dust gathers thick on your favorite ink thing. Why did you stop writing? Did inspiration flee?Did it catch the last train to Cincinna… ti?Did your rhymes get distracted by pancakes and pie,Or retire for…
