Scott Andrew Bailey – Author

By Scott Bailey © 2026

The wind will carry all kinds of litter

I watch it go, feeling bitter

There I am a bitter sitter

Weary of the time I fritter

Wearied by what the wind won’t take

By design or by mistake 

My ageing mask begins the flake 

My solid core begins to shake 

Because the wind won’t take my pain

My grief and regret it does disdain 

And it will not deign to explain

So the wind will ever be my bane.

In response to malformed_poetry’s prompt

https://www.threads.com/@malformed_poetry/post/DVbQKkoAh-I?xmt=AQF0IWHjpfT5lgrsNYDc5AYMeL6woiqasmNG7JMT5StZEaMQ6U1ZCwdZtpDGAWyxsnhWHtg&slof=1