The windshield wiper crashed down again on the leaf
It struggled to escape, with an erroneous belief
Trembling and quivering with false hopes of relief
Until, with one final slam of grief
It gave up, with acceptance of the hafif.
YOU ARE READING
sober thoughts
Poetryvolume i "she wrote it down, she kept record of them all. words expressing past emotions, details of what transpired with who, what and where. she might call it poetry or perhaps a diary but all I saw was a paper filled with words written in denial...
