More poems for Promptly Poetry |
| It might have been September it was that kind of fall rain a silver curtain over the window a gentle rhythm tapping on the panes murmuring in the leaf-clogged gutters a distant song faintly playing in my memory for which there were no words beyond the refrain: “Monday, Monday”. I couldn’t get warm, the kettle whistled for me to make another cup of tea. I grasped the pen in desperation and inked the words into the book before they could leave me. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt: Use the following words in your poem: Monday, fall, tea, book |