Photo by Nurlan Imash on Unsplash
She travels in a rush,
Leaving a trail behind her,
Copious amounts of pastimes she will share,
In her steed,
I cannot let her trip my memory,
Or force me to suffer the same fate as me,
Lining her driveway with her pain instead,
Of her folly,
It is not magic at all,
Just a sorcerers touch instead,
Leisure is not her suit,
Broken and craggily nails,
Sinking into my cats back,
Not caring how it feels,
She has gone mad with the pleasure of it all,
It has occurred at the same time as me,
The joint pain of inflammation.
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