I want to go backTo those glorious summers of youCarefree cigarettesIn sunny beer gardensOver cheap house redCareless words exchangedSignalling nothingBut the joy of fruitless conversationAs we felt each other out with wordsAnd ideasAnd storiesTo while away all the timeIn the world Followed by car trips Dripping with anticipation To dance intense With other ecstatic seekers…
Category: poem
Idea?
In 1486 a giraffe was released into Florence. It roamed freely for three weeks before dying.
Really Rubbish Poem
I realise i haven’t blogged for a while. Too tired for a story so a really rubbish poem will have to suffice. Apologies. The words of the mighty Lord Byron Should our hearts prepare For the nights of loneliness Of Hopelessness or despair But never could he communicate Or our secret heart’s ease The fear…
sarahmannsevilplans.com 