John Lawless Poet Rhyme

Thus, do I write of simpler things

Thus, do I write of simpler things
Of missing buttons, knotted strings
Of mystery when the doorbell rings
For I have seen the snowman fail
To answer long forgotten mail
Crazed pumpkin faces slowly scowl
As quickly fades the midnight howl

I write of fingers new to mittens
The tempting lure of purring kittens 
Of threadbare shirts and tattered jeans
Of baby steps, of living’s themes
For soup is better when it’s slurped
And babies happier when burped

I write of ripples, not of waves
Of what one gives, not what one saves
I seed the edges of the soul
For loneliness makes no one whole
And dare not peek over my shoulder
For I am aging not growing older

John G. Lawless
©7/28/2026

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Gershon Wolf August 4, 2026 at 8:38 PM Simple poem, so profound in its implications.

sara Etgen-Baker July 30, 2026 at 5:16 PM I appreciate the distinction between 'aging' and 'growing older' -- your poem was spot on. Faving

Daniel Henry Rodgers July 28, 2026 at 7:16 AM Hello John, There is such a disarming, grounded warmth in these lines. Your distinction between aging and growing older is well said, that rare shift where we stop looking backward and start tending directly to the edges of the soul. It is wonderful that true richness lives in ripples rather than crashing waves. May your path continue to be filled with purring kittens, warm hands in new mittens, and steady light. Blessings My Friend, Daniel John Lawless July 28, 2026 at 5:22 PM glad you enjoyed it Daniel thanks for stopping by to read and comment