Poems · writing

Paint by Number

Hot plate

She drinks Coffee Mate

While I passively expire

Inbred

She’ll soon be dead

Why don’t you come and join me by the fire

Timepiece

She’ll dress in fleece

I think I’ll go lie down awhile

Red letters

Her dress is tatters

I guess we’ll all go out in style

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