I like poetry, so I’ve decided to post one of my poems here every week until I run out!
I made a friend the other day.
A chance encounter greased our tongues,
our minds revealed through repartee,
as stories told fatigued our lungs.
But then things went a bit too far:
the TV lit the darkened room.
And now, I fear, a blackened char
is all that’s left of what did bloom.
Our greetings like clay pigeons fall,
brought down before their arc’s complete.
In saccharin charades we stall
in awkwardness, and then retreat.
Lest failure fallow all we sewed,
I hope that we will still be friends,
despite the troubled, bumpy road
we’ve traced to get to where this ends.