A box of rusty
nails, dusty in the garage,
waiting their purpose
A box of rusty
nails, dusty in the garage,
waiting their purpose
She painted the cow
skull bright, bold colors, giving
it another life
Reading on the deck
a few hours after work,
still a day well spent
Even with sunblock,
her left shoulder burns bright red,
the one place she missed
The wreath's on the door
late into April; with him
gone, she can't reach it
-----------------------------
He is still alive,
still breathing, but parts of him
are already gone
It's Wes' birthday:
For a present, you should give
him some sarcasm
As he removes the
bulletproof vest, he exhales.
It has done its job