Prolonged

Fill the page with prose
Out our ears, out our nose.
Ink spills from the pen
Into a sad letter blend.
Like a grim silly song
That goes on far too long.
A seed planted on paper
Bleak growth that does taper.
It will stretch to the light
Into the dark, into the night.

Reviews

[LisaCarol]

Well stated! Thank you for sharing your writing.