Three Poem Treats


If I write the poem in my heart
things fall apart, I fall apart
nocentior can hold
I wrote this panning for gold.


If I forget who I am
maybe I’ll be Sam I am
until it comes back to me
who I’m supposed to be.


The ironies of life are not
lost on those who iron
the wrinkles from their day
night always increases.

~ ~ ~

[I posted the above poems as tweets on Twitter
one each the last three successive days;
here, I’ve made a few minor changes.
This footnote is not a poem.]



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