Homophones Are Fun
Sundae bar in the middle of a lazy hazy uneventful Sunday
Jam and butterscotch with sprinkles as we devour, laugh and jamb
Phase three of the week which has done her best to poke me and faze,
Lax and chill, slipshod in ability to confuse shows that sister lacks
Witch qualities I had always attributed to her, ideas of which
Damn near anything can parade as truth while I create my sundae dam
Fourth time she has been back to the bar. Her greed parading forth.
I’d like to know what she thinks of me as she stares at me bright eyed.
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