Another Wordle as Really Awful Rhyme

A very moving experience over the past few days – finally moving Younger Daughter and the grandkids into the main house and our stuff from storage into the cottage – has taken up an awful lot of time.  Fitting curtain rails in the bedrooms alone was a task which defies description.  The walls appear to have been constructed out of some outer space material which defies drill bits.

Anyway, in spite of all that I couldn’t resist the challenge of having another go at doing a Wordle in order as given and rhyming:

Some seem born to tell all of a journey –

The distant sky sets a line for his will;

That point reached, starts new cycle in turn: he

Can never stand; he will not remain still;

Stones of tales from this source are created,

Made of the atoms in memory burn;

Then he writes them, as it has been fated,

When from these wanderings he shall return.

© March 2016 Colonialist (WordPress)