Friends
sharing food can leave us renewed.
Reset in Motion
My girls and I just broke some bread.
My girls and I just broke some bread.
I’ll share no secrets
that were said,
Except to say
Without delay,
We’re mostly glad the
past is dead.
We choose the chance
to chill and chug,
To raise a glass and
lift a mug.
No time for fools,
Such friends are
jewels.
We cry and crow and
simply shrug.
To look at loves and
labors lost,
To try each truth and
count the cost,
We for a song
Do come along
To clear our chests
at any cost.
Still, must we count
the years a bust,
If by the trip we’ve
learned to trust?
Each painful stroll
And shifty soul
Once thus examined,
blows as dust.
In voices raspy,
whispered woes
As errant chords do
decompose.
Sweet music drifts.
Each spirit lifts.
And troubles fly
where Heaven-knows.
c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson
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| Vintage/public domain photo |
This poem was posted
in response to these prompts:
ABC
Wednesday: “music”
Mad Kane
Humor: “bust,” “bussed,” or “robust” (LIMERICK)
Meme
Express: “for a song”
One Liner
Wednesday: See subtitle.
Simply
Snickers: “chance,” “chill,” and “chug”
Three
Word Wednesday: “painful,” “raspy,” and “shifty”
Thursday
Challenge: “motion”
Image/s:
