Here is why I don’t generally try to write poetry. 😀
SWEET ENGLAND The heart of darkness hide in the clouds above where swallows ever fly too low and fast. If you could see me wander these winding streets of cracked pavement stones jutting out uneven. I think you'd join me then thinking of this Sweet England of tempered souls of old that crouch forever. Not lifting their eyes above to the swallows over the park and the blue between the clouds where the sun live. The sun that once it shines is the source of harsh complaint of damage done to ivory skin not of basking warm. Sweet England you do me proud never letting the ray of light push the grey from the heart and smile big.