The Age of SteveA Poem by Geoffrey SpriggottPointless office gossip can be quite funny to watch. Especially if you imagine it's a kind of Spy network.
On stalks it makes its way, picking through the
events of the day. Tidy glances, neat and clean. Knowing smiles that hide, unseen. The rumor mill is grinding
From Agent to Agent the 'news' has passed. A salacious, lasting whisper that melts off tongues; Idle Minds turn naught to one. The Rumor Mill is Grinding How quick the feeling comes. Bound tightly close, Intrigue-riven office workers do feel the need To guess the age The age of Steve. © 2014 Geoffrey SpriggottAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorGeoffrey SpriggottAboutI like to write poetry and short stories in my spare time. I want to improve and welcome all constructive criticism. more..Writing
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