Fire

The consequences were dire
Invitations would expire
There was no will to inquire
Or maybe I just don’t inspire
Take my soul out of the mire
Place it back into the fire
Had I known what would transpire
I would have climbed a bit much higher
I would have found a different buyer
I would have worn different attire
There are goods that I aquire
I need a shelter for my desire

© Delia Ross. 2019

What's your thoughts?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s