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| No Fences There are no fences now all gone torn down rotted away forgotten as if they'd never been No reason for them anymore, I suppose. No animals to keep in or out No gates to swing on either; no stiles to scramble over, perch atop, or slither underneath No fences to repair jump over gossip over or lean on--nonchalantly No fences to whitewash, hurl stones, insults, and snowballs over No fences to balance on, show off on, depend on No gates to kiss good-night by, and no gates to slam good-bye No fences for butterflies to lite on and sheep to rub against No fences means no gates to steal on Halloween or to burn on Bonfire night No fences anymore just acres and acres of lawns and pretty stones plastic ornaments shrubs, hedges, and flower beds Some day I'll have one A WHITE PICKET FENCE! |
| Perspective Jolly, they used to call him. Marvin was always Jolly. Jovial, no matter the occasion. The class clown. The big buffoon. A great guy, but ever the jester. Later, they said it was inappropriate behaviour. On the ward, nobody minds his antics. A fully captive audience applauds his pranks; his behaviour now perfectly appropriate. |
| Love Letters Lopsided letters meander across the page; vivid reds and violent purples shout for attention. Tongue clenched firmly between baby teeth, chubby fingers holding fast to fat crayons. Triumphant smile heralding a masterpiece three marvellous words--I LOVE MOM! |
| Computer woes Newfangled necessity, fraying my nerves thin as orphanage sheets, always dreaming up new ways to confound me. Wires tangled, snaking down into that hidden jungle behind my desk. Bleeps, and bytes, drives and megs fatal errors, swallowing whole pages of blood and sweat in a single gulp. Blank pages bereft of ink with no explanation. Untouched buttons and unexplored icons, taunting me, daring me, setting me up for another fall. Another call to my irate guru to bring his black bag and hefty bill and pick up the broken pieces of my latest crash. |
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