Again
We’re having
spaghetti
again, tonight
We’ll watch
tv
We’ll talk of
nothing
We’ll stare
at ipads
minds blindly
numb
And get
ready for bed
Then I’ll
stand in my spot
before the brick
and persist
to
avoid any
thought
of my deep longing
Not in the
mood
to cry, again
My God, how
I wish
the wind
would blow.
