I came to a crossroads,
And the indecision broke me.
I decided I didn’t want to experience it again,
Ever.
So I live there now.
Micropoetry
How many tweets must a twitterer tweet
‘Fore a twitterer tweets his mind
With his fingers all racing through keystrokes retracing
A thought he cannot leave behind.
Grandlove
I fuss over children whose grandfather once
Did dote on my mother, and uncles and aunts;
It maybe that one day my grandson will see
The face of his cousin remembering me,
A cousin whose parents and uncles and aunts
Will have been who I will have doted on once.
Furrows In Your Brow
It ever pleases me to see
The furrows in your brow
That come about with every pout
Begotten by a row;
So let me plot and fabricate
An argument somehow,
That I may sigh, and gaze upon
The furrows in your brow.