Triangle Poems VI

Gubernatorial

Just as we were making way

the circus came to town.

We began to hope,

but had to stand

in a booth;

and truth

fled.

***

Penmanship

The scratch of ink on paper

still thrills a writer’s heart.

Her quill skips and weaves,

darting hither,

following

her heart’s

end.

***

Cheese

Good, like sunny afternoons,

and flowers in a field,

aged milk matures

to bring a taste

of heaven,

ripe and

old.

***

Checkers

Red and black go dancing past,

old friends still sitting there

well past dinner time.

“King me” he says.

“That’s not fair!

You won

last.”

***

Stilettos

Calves as tight as trampolines,

she totters high above

we humble mortals.

Forcing a smile,

she winces

and looks

down.

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