Short Wronger Poems

The days are long and getting longer
So my boredom’s that much stronger.
To complain feels even wronger
Since I am okay.

I read, I write, I do my walking;
On the phone or Zoom, I’m talking.
Still, at travel, I am balking;
Locally, I stay.

Pandemic life has been a trial
And, although it’s been a while,
I can’t say for sure when I’ll
Be comfortable away.

Others plan a nice vacation
Which is little consolation.
Maybe with some motivation,
I’ll go, too, someday....

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Two gifts you gave me, the day I was leaving school
My mother planted them like a will
I went to see my sister yesterday
And one is nowhere, a casualty of the drought perhaps
You blow too hard
From the mountains wronger side
The clouds over there hold no hope of rain

The other plant my sister cherishes
Love and faith were they together
The one that's left
Shall it be there when I come again,
Or shall some rain come
Before the dry wind weeds my mind agaiin?

A gift of love must last forever....

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