Roses are…um…

Photo by Irina Zhur on Pexels.com

Roses are…um…

My love is like my writer’s block
It sneaks up from behind,
It twists me like a weathersock,
It leaves me deaf and blind,
My confidences sharply fade,
My workings have resigned,
As all at once, my serenades
Have quite escaped my mind.

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