An ode
to the
picked upon
boys the
heels to
the toes
of the
popular ones
so sad
to be
tossed aside
like weeds
from a
tender bouquet
to never
be plucked
a forget
me not
long forgotten
Category: Love
Day
Hanging around
the kitchen
like a
starched shirt
waiting watching
for those
first few
bubbly drips
to drop
knowing that
my relief
was soon
erase away
the mistakes
of sleep
onto bath
and brush
Happier (for Vince)
It bubbles
this happiness
though not
with fanfare
a still
made from
hollow tubes
in which
things move
and change
from hop
to skip
and jump
just intoxicating
it is
Symphony
Music frames me
you and this
just us two
sipping away and
dreaming about day
lazily we glide
careful not to
spill careless affection
our affair hidden
to outside eyes
plays its symphony
it ends this
movement with applause
Nope
No longer
a ribbon
paper or
box bauble
or trinket
nor treasure
to cherish
not seashell
or stone
or any
one of
other things
found kept
and forgotten
not green
or flower
planted watered
and pruned
just I
and nothing
ever noticed
needed heeded
or had
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 