March Or a Hare's Breath From Reality.
Last roar of the feline, snarling frigid and grim,
Bright colors in closets reemerge, crisp and trim.
Indulge in some corned beef, a mug of green beer,
The diamond gets busy for the grand game is here.
The swallows arrive once again, don't you fret,
If he makes this foul shot, the Final Four's set!
But before you begin the next month with your fibs,
Be aware of that knife they might stick in your ribs!
Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2009
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