How different lights the night with stars
when we together call it ours.
It all seems to dance and sparkle more
than, I am sure, it ever did before!
Copyright 2007 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved
Great varieties of strange and wondrous musings germinate, grow, and mutate midst the hackneyed weed-thoughts in the gardens of my mind.
Hmm ...
At first I thought she must be kidding.
Her tongue is firmly planted in her cheek!
This otherwise (apparently) self-sufficient woman,
wife to one, mother of many, mistress of repartee
and fearless actress, cannot possibly write such airy
words of despair, sincerely! But then, there it was,
another message of despondency and jealousy, and,
yes, it’s true, YET ANOTHER! Well, what is a man
of heartfelt sensitivity to do but write a simple
(though inadequate) ode to this dear broken woman.
And so this man of heartfelt sensitivity wrote …
An Ode To This Dear Broken Woman
How sad! This poor life-weary soul lives not,
lest she lives with him in her life! How delicate and
tenuous is the thread of life that binds her to his
alleged strength and meaning, to all things good and
whole in which she seeks comfort in her vacant days
and sees her through one more dark night. Despair, I ask
now that you neglect defense against this ardent wish
that somehow, some way, this dear soul will get a life!
And hmm ... again for good measure.
Yes, my tongue is firmly planted in my cheek.
Copyright 2007 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved
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