Once Upon a Poetic Moon

The carpet's paid for; God Bless the TV, it keeps us informed. Cosy in our little room with the curtains drawn one thing's for certain, we still have our window on the world Slowly we've slipped into 'couch-potato-hood' Rarely, we fight, over which shows are good You hold the remote,"It's understood." Flip, flip, you change channels, searching for a show with some meaning to you, while I with books piled high beside me, sit oblivious- searching for meaning in poetry I battle with inadeqate words against the TV's droning tune Some night I'll write one that shoots holes in the moon.