The T.V. houses that we see,
The outsides never seem to match
The insides - a perplexity.
Ah, plots that Hollywood does hatch.
The 'Golden Girls' Miami house,
The 'lanai' was a 'don't fit' place.
To the garage, the Girls would roam
In the wrong directional space.
The kitchen - a hand me down set,
Looking at Chicago's skyline.
Vast living room, wicker beset,
Facing the viewer by design.
The outs and ins of T.V. land.
Jut watch - no need to understand.
Comments about this poem ('Girls' Pad by Ima Ryma )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings