Yes, despite being declared dead on at least two occasions Poetry Friday is back. When will this torture end?
Three poems this week, again mined from old stories.
Inactivity
A come and get me smile
but me,
being me,
didn’t go and get.
I stood
I stood
and waited.
The frowns are catching,
the scowls spreading,
the scowls infectious.
Be careful!
It’s not only smiles
that are contagious.
A
Bad Date
She was
a mottled patchwork of
darkness and light.
just like the sky behind her.
Beautiful to look at,
but something sinister
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