I counted the wrinkles in her hands
Whom life had subtly passed by.
She got no visits and no mail,
No one phoned her to say hi.
...
Once there was a group of bored nuns.
Adventurous, they were seeking fun.
And then, one Sunday—freeing—
The nuns all went a skiing.
...
There was a humorous president,
Whatever he said—that he meant.
Barring all else,
He made fun of himself.
...
Once two old ladies lived together.
They were friends in every weather.
Though they fussed,
And though they cussed,
...
Storing this,
And storing that.
Why be such
A packrat?
...
The poet stands on a corner
And faithfully heralds his cry
About the issues of life.
He speaks of flowers in bloom,
...
At the Vatican—
Saint Peter's Square—
The faithful
Kept vigils there.
...
With strategic choreography,
The flutes flirt
With the trumpets.
And the violins waltz
...
A day in the presence of God.
A day with those whom you love.
A day with prayer and a song
It's melody from above.
...
You have gone where few go,
Unless they’ve got that special pass.
But you’ve got that and much more,
Travelling with pizazz.
...