A Basket of Flowers

Time-worn hands

Buzzing brain

From far away lands

Forming flowers

Hardly sane

Painting pictures

Limited by no bane

Drawing doodles

Held back by no strictures

Creating classics

A home-bound fixture

Forming flowers


Hanging high on my living room wall

A basket of flowers, picked in fall


Dryer’s Done

Ding! Dryer’s done

In goes damp, out comes dry

Glaring glow emanating

From unfolded garb

Imploring to be folded

Perceiving plenty of pants

Inside out, not outside in

Sensing invisible socks

Divorced from their mates

The warmth emerging

Is pleasant and congenial

‘Course, don’t leave them out too long

‘Else mother comes and finds you out

Oh, the warmth you feel when

Ding! Dryer’s done