The edges of me have rubbed away ...
All my corners, all my angles,
Acute and obtuse alike.
Clouds have more harshness,
Satin, wickeder barbs.
My eyes throw no daggers.
My tongue holds no sting.
Come to me, my love,
While I am like you.
Sometimes I am kinda a bum, I know. And sometimes I look at your bum, You know? For sure, it's true I nap a lot, But it's also true ...
Okay!
ReplyDelete(I meant "Okay!" like "Okay, I will!" not like "Eh, your poem is just OK." Probably you figured that out but I want to make sure!)
ReplyDelete