Poem

My Friend RebmetpeS Then came my friend September, who took me by the hand, and we sang a sweet September…

Old Buford I came upon old Buford, and he grinned a toothless grin. I shook his scarred and wrinkled hand,…

Les Miserables: They hide their eyes from the morning, in hopes the light goes away. They turn their face…

My heart has made a garden, where the thorn falls away from the rose. Where every flower has your face. The…

Sweet primrose pressed between the pages. A book of verse from bygone ages. A token kept and treasured

I've got me the pinkeye. My sciatica hurts. I've got some sort of rash, and a touch of the squirts.

I'm stuck here in the garden, I watch the flowers come and go. I wish they'd turn me just a bit, so I could see…

I have no more time, to stumble or bumble, fumble, fidget or fall.I will go over, around, through or under, every…

The tree that blooms unnoticed, bears sweet blossom still. And has its time of beauty, even on a silent hill

I walk on given precious gems far better than a crown of gold two stands with jointed wiggling stems to bring me…