He sat and listened as the wind blew
Watched as trees danced
When the wind went to sleep
Trees rested
In the evening light
Casting off the labours of the day
It is time to wave a hand at the poets chair
Today’s work is done
Tomorrow the erupting volcano (the mind)
Will he hopes bring forth continuous flowing thoughts.
Poetry from The ManShed
17/11/19
My volcano didn’t sleep last night…..
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Once it rested Ivor them you are fit for another day.
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