I do not like it when you talk
Of all your women scattered far
And wide. I do not like it when you mock
Your former lovers. That’s bizarre.
You look at me and give a shrug,
And pour yourself a cup of tea
Into my own, my favourite mug,
And smile at me.
I take it. You don’t really care
Of anything I’ve got to say.
It must have been out of despair
That I got stuck with you those gloomy days
That followed that one endless night
When I got widowed in a crash.
I sip my tea. It clears my sight.
I look at you and see a pile of pompous trash.
Over a cup of tea
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123060704181
Свидетельство о публикации №123060704181
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