The summer holds on,
Desperate to warm itself,
For a day or two.
The writing has stalled,
The poems they struggle on,
None with conviction.
The battle lines drawn,
Tell a sorry tale of war,
And their great mistakes.
As complex as simple is.
The summer holds on,
Desperate to warm itself,
For a day or two.
The writing has stalled,
The poems they struggle on,
None with conviction.
The battle lines drawn,
Tell a sorry tale of war,
And their great mistakes.