Creative Writing

Ginger root. [Freeform Poem]

I’d be with that steaming mug,

so sorry for the sore sickness of your afternoon.

In your poor room, I’d recount

the night I lay listing the stars on ten trembling fingers.

If I may be so bold, I’d

wrap that scarf softly around your neck.

Don’t go to sleep cold.

(Stay warm, stay warm, stay endearingly warm.)

Your poor, poor form.

I’d reassure you;

it’s only raining indoors.

I’ve gone without before,

but, you know

I’m thoroughly worn.

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