Like a Timex
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard-core.
Evermore, heart ticking, he goes on.
They don’t make his model any more.
Not cut out for college, he gathered lore
in his craft; he learned it all, hands-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.
Into night he’d often work, his body sore,
developing both calluses and brawn.
They don’t make his model any more.
Once a fall from two floors up he bore!
Days later he was at his work by dawn.
Through lickings, like a Timex,my husband's hard-core.
Robbed and scammed; so much to abhor!
This self-made man felt like a woebegone.
They don’t make his model any more.
New trials that he never knew before
now face him, but he’s still a hanger-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.
They don’t make his model any more.
For the Anne's Favorite Poetry Form: Villanelle! (Any Subject)Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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