A mysterious stain is dancing
Cheek-to-cheek
with what looks like
a probate court reject
living on borrowed time
Until now the funniest thing
she said she thought it was us
Opera singing on the radio
Coming from the other room
In the house we rented
At the salty edge
of a great wilderness
Grand. Strange. Strangely grand. Hope all's well...
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for reading, Jonathan!
ReplyDeleteI try to get around when I can. Always enjoy your poems.
DeleteAnd I greatly enjoy yours. This one is like one of yours because of the title.
DeleteYes, the sort of title I'd choose. The Curry Stain On My Slipper was one I came up with.
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