The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 483 ~ #Poetry

Let the north wind point its ice-cold finger at me
I will go with the flow
My tender loving family wait at the end of the road
Home, where we feed on mother’s mince pies
No fancy frill, honest fare at mother’s table
Something to give our grateful gratitude for
The one silver lining that never tarnishes…

© anita dawes 2020

9 thoughts on “The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 483 ~ #Poetry

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