A Morning Walk

A bunch of dry lime leaves like schoolkids runs across the street. Be careful, do not slip on crispy morning frost. I see someone’s bike on its side, its owner rubs his hip. Are you okay? He is okay. A crow pecks out a crumpled tinfoil. What's inside? Alas, inedible. I’d like to know what cars parked off the road dream of at night. Oh, these wet dreams that make their windows sweat, you’re definitely better, to misquote Poe, than reality. A young brunette next door walks her old dachshund in the coat. That's how a pen of poet turns sometimes a routine morning walk into the rhymes. 21.10.2019 Your Best Sonnet July-December 2019 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: John Hamilton https://www.howmanysyllables.com 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10