Fantastically never-never humdrum
Boys and girls, and always
Nurturing and delicious, say
A lot like Mom and apple pie,
With plenty a whiff
Of Tinkerbell’s stuff,
And just like that,
The hard-to-swallow
Thought we’ll be only
Dust one day flies by!
I find myself wondering about Tinkerbell's fragrance, a whiff of which occupies the center of this stuff that we call a poem. This is a fine one, with a moving (flying) ending. I didn't feel myself aging at all as I reread this poem twice.
ReplyDeleteThank you, but never forget: Third time's the charm, my forever-young friend! Hahaha!
ReplyDelete