Young murder,
I had run from a story
‘round the garden of science fiction.
Together we depend on good.
Pollute a minor escape
from the rigors of family,
the virtues of truth,
caught up in deception.
Together we depend on good.
Round and round
and round and round
and round and round.
Together we depend on good.
Still we're going 'round, the boy in the garden of lies.
Together we depend on good.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 443
Brother and Sister
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Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.