Photo by Zack Jarosz I swear the worst sort of illness, is one you never quite recover from It lingers over tea, overlong Leaving damp hand towels on the bathroom floor, and a gaping hole where one's guts should be A disrespectful guest A vagabond salt seller Door to door, with trinkets and buttons Just to send one to their bed to swoon and suffer Oh, but through the years, I have learned to sew, and a million maidenly things to do nibble at my day Yet my mind, is still... Minitroubadoura 2019 (uj)
One troubadoura's adventures and lessons learned exploring the world through music, nature, and poetry. Visit my haiku site at harmoniesandhaikuhome.wordpress.com