The Wisdom Sitting in my Chair

The wisdom sitting in my chair

Is torn and broken, marked with wear,

But brightly coloured, soaked with sun.

The wisdom sitting in my chair

Is old and cold and worn and torn,

But much better than none,

I do declare.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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One Response to The Wisdom Sitting in my Chair

  1. lanodb says:

    Wonderful contrast from the old and worn to the brightly colored. Wonderful poem.

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