Final Analysis
(Hidden pitfall; judging a Poetry Contest)
I like to approach
the final pass
at morning sunrise,
after a long restful renewal.
This was not that morning;
awake at 2:00 AM
baking cookies by 7:30.
On the fourth cup of java
crispy peanut butter crunch
wades across my tongue,
floating downward
in a warm, brown stream
to settle in fat cells
on waist and hips
as the spoken words
cross my lips.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment