I hear the calling

in poetry •  last year 

Tomorrow is just another day,

always there, even in May.

May I ask you to teach me

how to forgive myself,

naughty elf on the shelf?

Between eleven and twelve

I am waiting for Hope,

nope, it is not just a trope,

another slippery slope

like that time you used to be dope,

All flowery, pink, cherry soap.

Because I said it so,

I need to go, for now,

All black tie, no bow,

no arrow either, childminder,

you are not the Man-Spider,

not even Spider-Man,

not now, not even back then.

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  ·  last year  ·  

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