March 25, 2007 @ 6:48 am | Filed under: Poetry
I’m terza rima, and I talk and smile.
Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away
I let mine out, and chatter all the while.
I’m rarely on my own – a wasted day
Is any day that’s spent without a friend,
With nothing much to do or hear or say.
I like to be with people, and depend
On company for being entertained;
Which seems a good solution, in the end.
What Poetry Form Are You?
HT: Mama Squirrel
Astonished at the voices of Willamette and wren
day thirteen: barefoot boy
“We must love one another or die.”
Sunday Poem: My Kind of Woman