A Bit of Sunday Morning Nonsense
Minus your face, dear, you bring me to tears.
A spot of confetti seems to last years.
The grit in the ashes soon turns to brass;
Shelves in my memory shatter like glass.
Come here, my darling, and bring me more wine;
Bear with my foolishness, make my face shine!
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #236
More Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United
Posted on October 20, 2019, in light verse, Poetry Pantry, Poets United, Rhyming poetry, Sunday's Whirligig and tagged ashes, bear, brass, bring, come, confetti, face, grit, minus, shelves, spot, tears. Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.