The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #526

Like a secret hid behind my eyes
I lie alone and wonder
How years go by without a clue
Like a blink or like a shudder

But glass holds in the things we feel
Words sit below the surface
We paint a scene of all our years
A meeting of minds amorphous

They sample foods and all fine wines
Those palatial and opulent
They lightly tap on clean taste buds
Bringing thoughts which are flamboyant

And then I go back to my shell
Where safety lies in wait
And let the time past fast and slow
Getting ready for my fate.

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

4 thoughts on “The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #526

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