When words lilt in their sagging,
Walking on the shoulder of a midsummer
Mind, winding down, winding down.
Parsed and parched their brittle
Out of season slouch,
My lips are pursed, tight
As a knot, why not.
Chapped chattering
Hurts.
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2 responses to “Lip Service”
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Sometimes it isn’t till we have exhausted our putting out, that we finally are open to take in, absorb and let ourselves be refreshed.
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quite true Jasper. thanks.
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Gerald the Writer 
Thanks for your time and thoughts.