The second of my collections of poems written for "Express It In Eight." |
| Perhaps In the land of the uncertain “Sure” is definitely not heard Everyone is a-flirtin’ Never trusting anyone’s word So they live in permanent flux Fickle from the day of their birth With maybes delivered in trucks The place I’m describing is Earth. Line count: 8 Rhymed abab For Express It In Eight, 06.18.25 Prompt: Write a poem about something you’re not sure of. |