Four Poems For Me; For You


Mallard marks my
morning’s myanderings;
moorhen munches moss.
My mind’s metred.
Muse mirrors.

In the couplet-epilogue,
I let go th’alliteration.


The cranes cry
to the cov’ring cloud;
I’m cold, as I sit writing.


dash, ‘n Oxford Commas
take their final stand ‘n
list their grand achievements.


      !nice ‘n earlee
    ?yeah. Pendswotheeofferiz
  soe lighk



“Just a coffee shop, or like?” In incompleted query’s his reluctance.

Image credit – Z Studio

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