Quite miniscule,
Overly small,
Less & less by day,
Overtly tiny by night,
Sometimes not at all do I write…
My muse is still hanging about,
Just not in the open or out,
My mind seems to of me rout,
With writing of late I have come upon a drought…
I do though immensely enjoy to read,
Of all those who are in touch with their writing seed,
Seems the only time I get the urge is when I smoke the weed,
Then of the write I find myself overly into greed,
And for me writing does then turn into a need.
© -ed- 7/3/18
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Love ya!
Jane
I still like your writing, large or smallish
never stop writing
m
Whether I write a little,
Or write a lot,
My muse would like,
Some of that pot.
Happy fourth. Don't let any firecrackers up your butt.
Ron
Sandie :)