Easy Comes Bad
Sad poems come as easy as death.
Blue skies are easy.
Love poems are hard, easy
comes bad.
Dying comes hard, writing about it
is the easy part.
Angst, anger, regret, self-pity
all are as easy
as writing a grocery list.
A wry humor and wit,
one that mixes sugar with vinegar,
smiles with tears,
such can say something
solemn,
while making a Mourning Dove
both merry and wise.
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