;o) Raccoons are fed and gone, kitty bowls filled, kitchen cleaned, drapes are closed...
It’s been a fun thread
Goodnight yorkie...sweet dreams..
See you all tomorrow.
The Poet’s Lament
In the peace of night I sit at desk and write
By the gentle flicker of a soft candle’s light
Soft words crafted prose to convey inner sight
In which my thoughts wing in venturous flight
Set in motion by the inner muse, I seek an image
That can, if called on, hold utter peace, or even rage
And so I struggle, like some ancient embattled mage
For a Midas spell, fated to go amiss by the most sage
For in the mind of the articulate soul lies no peace
Too many things demand to be heard, seek release
And so we struggle, to capture an idea so fleet it be
In a turbulent sea of thought, to hold it is my plea