A DISTANT THUNDER

A distant thunder, and

what does it make me think

of? That I need more coffee,

as two screens show the Olympics

in silence, and a pile of books

teeters on the table on

the brink of collapse. But

what I think of, hearing

the rumble, is black

liquid to drive away

the taste of dust from

my mouth, that would

rather touch tender flesh,

after I just praised in words

the accumulation of years

between the pages of books.

04.08.2024

Poem Poems Poetry Verse

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