* * *

Behind the brown stars, Wheels are turning; Cogs are grinding. She considers the conversation Skeptically. She criticizes me. My rebuttal is weak. Her sarcasm bites. Rather than biting back, I give way. I acknowledge her dominance And lock my own eyes With her brown stars.

(I read a poem likening eyes to stars. Then I got my butt handed to me, with a side of extra-bitter sarcasm, the next day, while the analogy was fresh in my mind. The poem came to me earlier today.)

Eileen Totheleft
SourceLicence:CC BY

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