Today, the first word that left my pen was a seven lettered one.
Madness is a realm so wide:
It holds not a you or a me,
Only but our two pennies’ worth of
Madness is an interlude:
It builds not between a you or a me,
Only within the walls of
Madness is a singsong trite:
It rings not a tune of a you or a me,
Only aches of tomorrows
Madness isn’t mild, you see.
Today the only words that leave my pen want to honour a seven lettered one.
Today it’s all I want to write about.
July 6, 2017
A chair and a table, India