the dance of the ink riddled fingers

the daughter tries ‘responsibility’

Posted in how was your day?, the poet-tree by enisea on 12/02/2011

It was the early hours of morn
When I so chanced to sleep
The night crept slyly by the clock and
Tensed me by evening’s degree
I’d spent a hypnotic four hours plus
Laying out my creativity
Alas, the tasks I’d written “do”
Still stared unticked at me.

It being thirty after noon
The house still sprawled my mess
The parents were scheduled return, midnight
I’m pitifully far from rest
So without detouring further ado
I’ll grudginly play “domestic”
And smile upon outside’s shine
Don’t leave, I’ll be back for you.


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