Ramblings of a sleepy poet



Keeps popping into my head

Every time I sit down to write a poem

I have no idea what it means

Seven what exactly?

Seven brides?

Seven brothers?

Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box?

Wait, that’s seven sins

That could definitely fit

I don’t think it’s the seven dwarfs

Or the magnificent seven

Who stole their shtick from those seven

Japanese guys

Seven days?

Seventh heaven?

I really have no clue

Perhaps it will come to me tomorrow

When I sit down again to write

On the 7 am train.








4 thoughts on “Seven

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