You never croak, but you roar like a frog.
You bark an extended note, though you never howl.
You write her love songs, drunk on ale.
Buzzed on tea, I ink the sound down.
‘S’alright. My pen’s as neutered
as I always said it was.
And my love’s as strong as you strike
those chords
over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.
I see the curves that your hips don’t make, Man.Read More »