Here is just a little clue,
Look inside the words I write,
Other words hide in there, too,
When packed in tight, they unite.
Scapegoat is the first one,
I don’t think a goat’s aware,
Escaping from this poem,
That his pelt might need repair.
Afterthought is complex too,
A thought that comes thereafter,
After all the work is through,
Thought-too-late distractor.
Airbag? Are...
Continue reading...