There was a time
When we were Inspired.
A time
When we'd fall into that deep well
Accidentally on purpose.
We'd stay there until a frog would leap out,
Ask us what we were doing,
Bribe us with a gift,
And lure us away.
But sooner or later we'd come back
Simply because.
The well was still there
And there was always time.
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I found a bunch of mini poems I'd written a while ago just the other day, and, since I'm not doing anything else with this blog, just felt like posting them. I'm curious as to whether I can even call them poems since they look more like cut up little stories to me.
Mind you, there's some very strange metaphors even I can't understand. Is that a good or a bad thing?
Feel free to interpret these whichever way you wish. I'll post another one up when I can.
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