by 3
If I write the poem in my heart
things fall apart, I fall apart
nocentior can hold
I wrote this panning for gold.
2
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.
1
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.]
And as life progresses, hopefulness becomes our only friend.
Hopa, hopian, hoop, circle, cycle. Hmm. Thx B!
Your little treats were like tasty appetizer’s
Thx Ivor. Sometimes that’s all we need.
I do a series called Tit Bits, a poem made up of 4 or 5 small poems. hmmm, I’ll attach my latest one, https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/09/24/tit-bits-15/