Pour

Life pours its bounty down on me

I need an umbrella to see out of the downpour

on top of me, puddling at my feet, making them wet.

Nonsense pours itself into my cups from the

neverending supply that once ripe is

as sweet as peaches, tangy as lemons.

And through my fingers inky words

do slap and slop onto the screen where

in bits and bytes for all the world to see.

Nanas eyes are watching me and they know

a secret of a time and a war beyond borders

and peoples. It’s her family and that includes

me, and though she eyes suspiciously, does she care?

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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