Gord

2021-07-01 03:45 am

Should one be horrified of nothing?
Hook, shore, line, cheeks blushing,
Sorry I lack a lively career,
Goodbye, deary;
My life is lovely.

They say no rush,
Speak nothing of time and boxes;
Wishing they were ski jumping,
Even if it begets evil things.

One hundred years fishing.
Whether or not I am punished,
God, brother, life, iron will,
I watched the flowers flourish.
Like drumsticks desire a skin,
Find, then are tossed aside:
Tomorrow is unprovided,
Yet I will.