A sign of rebel withdrawal
Until the next round of festivities
With shell bursts way up high
And sometimes multiple blasts
From an MLRS too.
A collection of poems in journal entry form.
Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
He would've declared that day a holiday.
Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
The look of satisfaction on his face would've lasted from sunrise until sunset.
Just look at you.
God must've been so pleased with himself the day he made you,
He would've summoned everyone from the four corners of his kingdom
For a day of feasting and merriment.
I could watch you read the news
Every day for the rest of my life,
Observing the movement of your lips
As you spoke in sync
With the movement of your eyes
And I would not be bothered
If the outside world was burning
And mountain slopes were crumbling
While people dazed and stumbling
Were wailing with their voices
Reaching to the skies
For I would feel so blessed
To be watching you
In paradise.
Tea.
Piping hot.
Cooled by blowing gently before each sip.
No other way to drink it.
Just made myself a cuppa with boiling water fresh off the stove.
A piping hot cuppa tea and the morning newspaper.
No other way to start the day.
Whoops!
Cats' water bowl waiting to be refilled?
Whoops!
Cats' groundsheets waiting to be changed?
Whoops!
Cats' rice waiting to be cooked?
Tell you what.
To hell with everything.
Too many times, too many times.
Lukewarm tea after getting everything else outta the way?
Again?
For the millionth time?
Not this time.
To hell with everything.
This time it's me first, everything else afterwards.
OKAY?!?
Now where's that piping hot cuppa tea?
What?
Got distracted again?
Damn!!!