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Those Bells
Those bells, those jubilant, jaunty clangers
Vibrating chimes dancing across meadows
Cavorting through town
Are gone.
Stolen by a rogue poet
Abetted by a teacher
Who played a recording
Of Poe’s….THE BELLS.
Around the fifth replay
I swore off poetry for life,
Rescued only by
Tintinnabulation therapy.
I still cringe
At the sound of a doorbell.
Not Poe’s fault
My neighbor
Is always looking
To borrow something
I offered to lend him
The bell.
Copyright ©
John Lawless
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