Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Jamuary 15th 2011

My eyes are tired – of looking at the grey
of winter mornings, at the sorts of cloud
that presage rain or sleet. It is allowed
to be depressed when dark day after day

succeeds and there is very little hope
spring will be any better. Fools and knaves
who'd rather like to make us all their slaves
wreck all around us. Give them so much rope

they wreck themselves? The trouble with that plan
is we tried that before. It didn't work.
Some sit around and weep. Some go berserk.
And some write verses. If I rhyme and scan

it is for fourteen lines to have control
and fight despair before it eats my soul.
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