Poem by Angela Prew
There is nothing I can think of for this poem
my mind is absolutely blank.
Do I write of love in June?
Kisses ‘neath the moon?
I wish I knew. Already it is Wednesday,
my brain is spinning in a frenzy,
they have to have it by tomorrow
and to my lasting sorrow,
if I’m completely frank,
there’s nothing on my screen that I can show ’em.