Queasy
 
Mind's all muddled, logic's befuddled, not even sure I'm awake.
Rhyme has no reason, strictly free breezing, time I'll take.
Imagine me and you, that was thought to be easy.
Now all that I am thinking is making me queasy.

By panther811

© 2018 panther811 (All rights reserved)

 

Read more poems by  panther811
Send this poem to a friend
Read 3 viewers comment(s)

This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The Quickie Challenge-read page for RULES AND NEW INFORMATION (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The Quickie Challenge-read page for RULES AND NEW INFORMATION (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - The Quickie Challenge-read page for RULES AND NEW INFORMATION (challenge has been closed)


The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page