Only A Poet
one new poem. each day. one year.
11 February 2010
Spilled Drink on the Keyboard
A spill.
A thrill.
No chance
To stop.
No glance
At what
Caused this event
I could not prevent.
A thing
To bring
Such stress,
No rest,
Duress.
All fine.
But then this thing
New hell does bring.
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