hot is

lasting want

comes inside

on the bottom

now found

in a trash

pile miles

from the site

a round medium

lugged immediate


on a price

negating it

while twin dogs foam

on curling hair

of raging fiends

on understanding paths

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in peace, poem, poems, poetry, romance, sun, temperature and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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