Ouch

quillEvidently, poetry, not unlike prose, can arise in the bosom of life’s epiphanies or adventures, e.g., The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, or even our own Star Spangled Banner. Today’s offering comes from the coffers of my own experience.  I prefer to allow the reader his or her own interpretation:

I wore my socks

And stubbed my toe,

It’s had its knocks,

But now I know:

My toe is blue,

It hurts to walk,

So wear a shoe,

(Like I should talk)

Next week, I will return to those more skilled than I in this fine art.  Perhaps, then, I can walk a bit more.
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Author: dawnlizjones

Tends toward TMI, so here's the short list: guitar and banjo (both of which have been much neglected as of late), bicycling (ibid), dogs, very black tea, and contemplating and commenting on deep philosophical thoughts about which I have had no academic or professional training. Oh, also reading, writing, but I shy away from arithmetic.

5 thoughts on “Ouch”

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