I w a s r e a d y t
o w r i t e y o u a
p o e m B u t n o p
r e t t y w o r d s
c a m e t o m y m i
n d I a m b i c p e
n t a m e t e r n o
w h e r e B u t o h
l o o k m y s y l l
a b l e s a d d u p
I was ready to write you a poem,
But no pretty words came to my mind;
Iambic pentameter nowhere;
But oh, look: my syllables add up!
Her kindness is legendary,
Her compassion renowned,
Her knowledge always increasing
And her wisdom profound.
It is incredible that a feature or an expression on a passer-by’s face can unlock a flood of memory and feeling.
Texas and “subtle”:
Incompatible.All of our Summers
Burn out abruptly;Even our Autumns
Feel the need to fall;Every Winter
Bursts from the freezer;And when comes the Spring:
Beauty without peer.
You always write me letters,
And you’re pleasantly consistent,
But the letters you are writing
Are not addressed to me.After night has ended,
But before the morning breaks,
That is when you write those letters that
Are not addressed to me.Rest assured, I read them
With eager haste when I roll out of bed,
But it would mean so much more if they were
Addressed to me.