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Oh would-be lover, I entreat
No more of your rough-hewn poems without meat
I tire of this naïve talk of the moon
And how you swoon
It’s altogether too jejune
30 words written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Jejune
crispina kemp 
Jejune. July. Never care
Winter here. Summer there
Not beginning. Nor the end
Christmas? Let us not pretend
Melancholy. Good and bad
Neither happy. Not that sad
And still I love you, dear Jejune
Although you will be August soon
Thirty words? Yes understood
Restrict myself? I wish I could
Withhold my passion? Yes I should
That’s sixty for you ….. (twice as good)
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Thank you, Richmond Road. And I love your name, that’s where I lived as a kid!
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And that is where I lived as a kid. Part of me still lives there.
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I do wonder if it’s the same road. Was yours a hill with a Middleton Crescent at the top?
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Ours was indeed, a hill, but with David Place above it. I think it highly unlikely that they were even in the same hemisphere.
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Or the same universe? I take it you’re ‘down-under’
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Indeed I am. Where women glow and men plunder.
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Yay! Get it 😀 😀 😀
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What a wonderful response!
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Love your take, Crispina. Comes a time when we need a bit more, shall we say, finesse? 🙂
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Oh yes, let’s celebrate finesse 🙂
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Yes, please!
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❤️❤️❤️
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💞💞
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I love this, be gone lover 🤣
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Thank you, Pam 🙂
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Haha! Good one.
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Thank you, Sadje 🙂
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You’re most welcome
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❤️
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🙏🏼
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Well, okay then. 🙂
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But if you want to ply me with simple verses…
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Swooning jejunely? No thank you!
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🙂 🙂 🙂
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