At the open door she pauses

[minervasolo]

It's grey and wet and warm
Before the pending storm
Every now and then she misses horses
We're too young for regrets
This is the closest that she gets
The Sandringham Line, by The Lucksmiths

Why won't it rain? It's so hideously muggy out there. At least the house is nice and cool. Less of a bonus in winter, but right now I could stay here happily, having experienced the mughness of the weather when I went food hunting earlier.

I, personally, am a terrible poet. All the submissions for the magazine are brilliant. It's a great way to spend an afternoon ^_^ I have space for a small poem (8-12 lines or so) in one corner, though, and nothing that people have sent me so far fits. Any offers?

Comments

[ultharkitty.livejournal.com]

I don't/can't do poetry, but if I could I'd volunteer something!