Niggles and nags make for hours unending,
years appear moments that stealthily flee,
squandering days unaware of the spending,
slow to discover that no time is free.
Niggles and nags make for hours unending,
years appear moments that stealthily flee,
squandering days unaware of the spending,
slow to discover that no time is free.
Turnblow here again. The first line needs to be: “Niggles and naggles for hours unending”. Other than that, the poem’s okay. Not like O.K. Baily, the fireballing kid in the Cardinals organization who blew out his arm before he got to the big time. But still okay. I’ll even argue the point.
This is some site, Gibler, I have to drag a worm to the apple before this post is validated? Did you think this up all by yourself? So I missed with the worm. Now I have to drag juice to the glass. You ever try dragging juice? Some summer nights I drag the juice over to the vodka bottle. is that how this poem got wrote, Gibler?