Poem

Some people are smitten…
Like giants eating kittens in a glove…

Others are in love…
Making mittens from a dove…

Many are lonely…
Like bees eating bologni.

Most, however are ghosts…
Hiding close…
Watching…
Clapping…
And jumping with glee…
Waiting to see the sneeze and wheeze, of the pathogenic flea.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s