Asking me to write a Lannet poem
is like asking the sun not to come out.
It may not shine today or tomorrow
but eventually comes a glimmer.
Thin shafts of light stretch across the sky
casting weird shadows over the landscape
peering through branches of the grim grey trees
and suddenly the clouds stop glowering.
A new day is born and yesterday’s gloom
is now just a forgotten memory
filed away in the archives of our minds
as the sun spreads her joy over the world.
But as my Lannet poem is born
meaningless words spread over my page.
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