As they lowered her coffin
he felt the white breeze
he gazed at the tree,
at it's brown, dying leaves.
...
We slip on the snails
Who we did not see
As we tread upon the tarmac
Absorbed in our own misery.
...
You stand behind the counter.
I stare at your eyes
They look far more delicious
Than my ketchup and fries.
...
Two cups of tea
Sit infront of me
Steamy milky aroma
Inticing, ushuring me
...
'This isn't working.'
she said
taking a sip of coffee
Staring at the ring of liquid on the kitchen table.
...
Yo Chaucer-
Mark but this comment from your faithful Donne,
tis true, you cannot spell!
and your syntax, is, oh so very wrong!
...