a teacup with no saucer,
and all I do--all I can--
is sit very still and wait and
hope (with such quiet desperation)
that the one who poured my contents in will tell me
why;
or at the least
will pour them out again to where they'd better be.
-
- Brat Farrar (
bratfarrar) wrote,
Brat Farrar
bratfarrar
poem (by me): to the brim
a teacup with no saucer,
and all I do--all I can--
is sit very still and wait and
hope (with such quiet desperation)
that the one who poured my contents in will tell me
why;
or at the least
will pour them out again to where they'd better be.
-
Written in his Bible...
E'en such is time! which takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and all we have; And pays us naught but age and dust, Which, in the dark and silent…
-
poem: Nature, that washed her hands in milk
- Sir Walter Raleigh Nature, that washed her hands in milk, And had forgot to dry them, Instead of earth took snow and silk, At love’s request to…
-
poem: May
- Hilaire Belloc This is the laughing-eyed amongst them all: My lady's month. A season of young things. She rules the light with harmony, and…
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