If life is a bowl of cherries
What am I doing in the pits?
If life is a bed of roses
Why poison from my lips?
If life is a fairy tale from the Arabian nights
Why am I not Scheherazade with my head on?
If life is King Henry the eighth mighty rights
Why am I the embodiment of Ann Bolyne?
If life is a honeymoon suite
Why is my mattress made from thorns?
If life is covered with silky sheets
Why do I have to face the devil's horns?
Erma Bombeck coined my poem's title phrase
Her humor stirs squarely at my face
Her morning columns fanning my blaze
Did I inspire her columns every case?
She wonders why I made my own bed?
Or is it fate tipping my scale red?
June 8,2013
Copyright Leaking Pen 2013
Rev Nov 14 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem