Dreamed of You

She kneads the bread in the morning, it’s what she’s meant to do
Hums a wishful tune
And looks outside for you
Looks down at hands bleached in flour

Wake, knowing it’s the other way

Looks down at hands stained in blood
And looks outside for you
Shouts the morning news
He loads the guns in the morning, it’s what he’s meant to do


 

ThisĀ is a re-posting of a poem that was made to depict relationships is word war 1 and 2.

I’ll need to use this Monday to think ahead for my next poem before I run out of reserve.

When did poetry become difficult?