one for sorrow....two for joy
if a word was spoken
and its meaning was true
and faces felt impact
showing winces in view
misconstrued adjectives
in a loquacious tongues barter
is a long requested narrative
absorbing a barbed glib patter
I stand at my kitchen sink
a skirmish fresh on my mind
a magpies cackle that’s raining
pulls my eyes to the outside
and there laughing on the roof
of my neighbours garden shed
they’re one for sorrow and two for joy
though the latter hasn’t appeared yet
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