With my 1/4 glass of wine in hand
I thought of this August past
and wondered how I fell so far
and what was there to last
With my 1/4 glass of wine in hand
not inches from my eyes
your distain is what I see
why am I so surprised?
With my 1/4 glass of wine in hand
held high up in my sight
that's some friend you turned out to be...
my last thought of the night.
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Comments: 5
Another of my old poems...feeling sentimental lately(?), I guess.
That is damn sad, really.
That isn't a critcism of the poem; it is a statement of what the poem invokes.
very good
I hear ya
...you need to go on writting.....Please.