Below is the poem entitled Best Man which was written by poet
Pickett. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Ring, ring goes my telephone,
I move to the front door of the house
I rent to own
I am moving slow,
The call came a few hours before
from a dear friend of mine
forewarning me of the grime,
dirty shards ripping, crippling my inner core.
I saw them together at the grocery store.
Discombobulated, my shirt smells of pine,
weighted, my heart begins to whine,
My best man, my girl. A romance so hard to ignore.