On Poetry

I have nothing planned. So I wrote a poem for you:

 

Thy Infinity

 

Indigo swirls

I cannot see the end

Or is it the bottom?

Everywhere the same

Underneath me, above, around

But at least it is

A fascinating color.

 

 

Poetry is not my strong point. I'm still doing nanowrimo, so don't judge me too harshly. (I haven't dropped out yet! I am so proud. I dropped out long before this last year.) I'm up to 35,000 words, despite the homework piling up around my ears.

 

Not to mention my cat's kittens (they are about four or five weeks old now) are starting to climb out of their box. There are three of them, but only two are climbing around, squealing and distracting me from writing. The third is a runt, who I have to feed replacement milk every other hour: he is so adorable. I named him Woodstock (after the little yellow bird from Charlie Brown) and I feed him every other hour. (Or so.)

 

Nothing else to say, really. I started reading The Book Thief (Markus Zusak). I may or may not have a review for that on Monday. Other than that... have a blessed day. (And a blessed Thursday, since I don't post on Thursdays.)

 

:D