A poem done to answer Jayne’s challenge.

Sometimes I sit and think,

and sometimes I just sit.

It seems more of the latter,

the older that I get.

The best place for thinking

is in my tractor seat.

As a fort of solitude

it really can’t be beat.

Sometimes I get to pondering

while my truck hums down the road.

Ideas, as far as I can tell,

don’t add much to the load.

And when I go to bed at night

my mental gears are spinning.

Perhaps the heat from all that thought

is why my hair is thinning.

the Grit

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2 Responses to “”

  1. Jayne Says:

    Hi Grit

    I like the poem – thanks! I shall have to think of something more challenging next time round!

    Jayne šŸ™‚

  2. britandgrit Says:

    Hello again,

    I think you should write one about “When sunlight hits a zebra.”

    the Grit

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