HOOVED
Life--the never-aging ballerina—pirouettes outside my window like a gazelle in showers of rain, snow, apricot blossoms, October gold... She is completely oblivious to MS sentencing me to immobility. I am irritated by her like a cow is irritated by an insect, except I don’t have a tail to shoo her away, and even if I had one, it would be as limp as the tutu in my closet…
The antelope wench
Is prancing all day;
I find it so strange:
I swat her away—
She dances instead
Of leaving, the prig;
I moo in my shed
Resenting her jig.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
