one month
not once
the gun there
we’re off
in sorghum
we grunt
as granted
lyin’ a loft
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Poetry
one month
not once
the gun there
we’re off
in sorghum
we grunt
as granted
lyin’ a loft
ayaladn 
could you explain a bit more to me what you were describing here? it speaks to me of when i was a small child, hiding from the gunshots that shattered the air every night – thieves that came to steal my family’s sorghum. Either way, i greatly appreciated reading. Thank you.
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It carries further…who can say why?
One more attempt at a so-called word
without a rhyme: month, without going
too far from the current trying verses.
Kind regards to you.
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