Lessons

Warm milk might soothe unless it’s sour
Likewise hands and fingers know
The tempestuous ridge of your brow
Icy palms induce your stern glower

This eggshell floor that on knees I scour
With dainty brush to elicit glow
To your ego, I daily kowtow
Genuflect to your stony tower

But what if I saw my reflection
Exclaimed in an unconscious voice
Who’s that sniveling pathetic creature
Without a map and no direction?
Would I recognize my choice
Could I be my own good teacher?

Telling the Truth

If I were dry instead of spilling over

A stemmed rummer: Chardonnay or port

If I were bare instead of drunk with clover

Wisteria madly climbing o’er my fort

If I were fair instead of robust swart

My limbs each a shaded branch

If I were willowy, but nay, I am short

Burning thoughts the world will stanch

If I were a vicar, not stuck on this ranch

Prayers launched unto the Promised Land

To face the Almighty, I’d surely blanch

My intractable ship by Him be manned

If I were willing, I’d spread my arms and die

But my arms stay folded; I bow and sigh

Telling the Truth

If I were dry instead of spilling over
A stemmed rummer: Chardonnay or port
If I were bare instead of drunk with clover
Wisteria madly climbing o’er my fort

If I were fair instead of robust swart
My limbs each a shaded branch
If I were willowy, but nay, I am short
Burning thoughts the world will stanch

If I were a vicar, not stuck on this ranch
Prayers launched unto the Promised Land
To face the Almighty, I’d surely blanch
My intractable ship by Him be manned

If I were willing, I’d spread my arms and die
But my arms stay folded; I bow and sigh