A week far too filled with all sorts of things.
My to-do list is growing.
Which is not good.
After the south of England I feel more than ever I should live in the UK and not here.
Age is starting to be a huge obstacle, but I will send uninvited jobapplications to psychologist practices.
Like R said: they should be jumping of joy to get you.
No need, just invite me over and give me a job so I can find me a tiny place to live.
None is without dreams...or should be without dreams.
With another son leaving the house, there is just one daughter left.
So I feel I have started tidying and throwing things away for the last time.
So I don't feel poetic, just tired.
I know the image is about drawing the moon, a Wiccan ritual.
But as always I didn't want to go for the obvious
And being a warpoet...
Find the poem >>> here <<<