Sit and simmer

And so I sit and simmer,

Like pot and kettle sat,

Words all a buzz in front of me

I simply don’t understand.

 

Who to tell and what to say

There is nobody here;

And if there were, they’d simply laugh

To simmer over art.

 

And in a way, they must be right

I shall not come to boil,

Many things we find frustrating

But to succeed, we also toil.

 

 

If you like this poem try my most liked:  https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/sheltered-under-wing/

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/03/out-of-sight-out-of-mourning/

Simmer

 

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