grocery weeping

Seven bags unpacked,
Sifted through.
No flour. None.
The one thing now to be missed—
Homemade birthday cake.

Poem title from chapter 42 of poemcrazy by Susan G. Wooldridge.

I learned about the shadorma during last year’s National Poetry Writing Month. It’s such a lovely poetic form to work with, I not only fulfilled the prompt but wrote a number of other shadormas, including this one. Peace to your !

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