Photo by Lukas Rychvalsky on Pexels.com Each Sunday He doesn't live aloneTho' he might as well beEach Sunday ForThen they leaveAnd he can't help but to seetheHis silent rage rollsLike a perfect storm that unfoldsUnleashing torrents of tears like rainDrowning everything in its wake But he holdsOnly scowlsCos he's oldOr so he's told Then he … Continue reading My Monday Metrical Musings #4