Apologies from the twisted minds of the newly senile
Never mind "fight the fat", it's the fatigue that brings us down.
Ripples of ridicule remain in view, from a panorama of pity,
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A poem… to slur with love.
The morning after the night before
the day before yesterday's cat…
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Come sit with me, to laugh and drink and cheer
and unwrap all the presents in our minds.
Come sit, relax. A little wine and beer,
to coax the day's sprung coil, as it unwinds.
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The Belly button thief.
I do believe, when young and naïve,
(or so the story goes)
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A million candles snuffed out in a flash
may never hold the power of one alone.
The tree falls in the wood without a crash,
unless that tree by many is well known
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The snowdrops and the crocuses
have hemmed the woodland track
advance word of the advent of
daffodils
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Wilbur’s gonna get me/you!
My dearest wife, has caused some strife,
For me myself and my daughter.
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(Note: You may wish to read, “(Wilbur's gonna get me/you! ” First.)
Wilbur’s got a little friend
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Aaron Aardvark’s Alphabetical Advancement ©
When I first met Aaron Aardvark,
I said, “How do you do? ”
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There are sinews everywhere
of umbilical despair
Tattooed souls of ingrained chasms.
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