Poetry
Some may say
it is a curse
who's to know
but could be worse
altho' no aesthete
I'm not averse
to levity when
taking up the pen
to scribe a poem then
making it rhyme
it's wit I seek
one line at a time
with tongue in cheek
(roses are red Mondays are blue
honey is sweet violets are too)
and once in a while
as humour is the fave
to break out a smile
late in the day
catching words
before they slip away
giving voice
to my innermost thoughts
whimsy is my quirk of choice
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