Stumbling through summer morning with some heavy bumble…
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Tick tock, tick tock sounding…
Humming, it ruptures the aether…
Forever turning over within an immortal tempest…
The chequered smell of a local boozer…
Sifting through these dreamless nights…
Wouldn’t you like it all to rhyme…
What an old house it was!
Heavy Limbs Lay Low…
©2024 Giuseppe Gillespie
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 