The Writing Game
Poets plan out their lives
like three line haiku, driven
to write away minutes
They sit hunched
under mote slivers of light,
as the clock ticks on and chimes.
They’re rhyming every
inspired syllable sent.
And with the pen’s last breath,
they drop, dry and spent.
It’s a game, a set and a match.
Sunday Whirl’s Wordle #548 Use the following words: sliver breath sent plans hours minutes chime drive write light
crime match ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image by Ashim D’Silva on Unsplash.
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