With Mr. Williams' Mentor to
one ninety-four and
the window cracked to
wet leaves, drippy gutters, and
rustlings in the nest across
the driveway, I try to
read interestedly, but
find that Mr. Keats stumbles when
the rain hits the portico or
the moist summer wafts in.
My book discarded, I move to
the window and
watch the ablution.
A contest entry
- PW2- Quickie by crivanea.
400 points, ended July 26, 39 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Oh! What a lovely write! I was scrolling through the contest and realized I forgot to comment on this! Hmmm how did I miss it? Anyways what a clever piece! I like the perspective you placed into this and it is a very thoughtful write that speaks much of contemporary writers.. Well written!
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