Poems given to me while spillin' tea on my keyboard, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.
Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a
Creative Commons License.
See details.
Why don't we hold hands like we used to?
Well, someone has to push the stroller.
The traffic lights contrast nicely against the sunset sky.
Yah, It makes it so much roodier.
That tree looks like it has arms.
What tree?
That one … the one with the arms.
You're weird.
What do you think Flora will say when she can talk?
Uh, can I borrow the keys?
This is nice.
Yeah, but an escalator would be nicer.
How come you don't touch me anymore?
I'll touch you tonight if you stay awake.
I'm serious.
Me too. Besides, you know the answer to that. I've been busy at work, and you've been going to bed early … we just have to work at it a little more … You know I love you.
Yeah.
Let's go home.
© 2003-2005, Howard Abrams • Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a Creative Commons License (see details).
I love this poem Howard! It sure captures the essence of married life, so personal yet a part of everything.
Sara
Comment posted on Tuesday, 25 February 2003
|
|
|
|
|
|