Miss Mug

I gave up thinking years
in private
time p’aled in comparison
to state
frith dissolved
–though hope barely melted–
condensing sweet
on glass
evaporating in the cold
. . .
becoming bitter
–in ensuing weaks
–only palatable
over sea.

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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