Monday, April 11, 2011


The hundredth day of the year
has no inherent meaning
to those inhabiting this sphere
incessantly careening
except for one small group that meets
to throw a celebration
with frosted and some frozen treats
to honor the creation
of someone they have taken in
among their growing family
while he proffers a sheepish grin
awash in the cacophony
of the close-knit clan they’ve formed
and his ripening heart is warmed.


7thour said...

Sharp & cunning. Respect.
I've added you to my affiliates.

rch said...

hey thanks 7, will add you in to my links.

Cynthia said...

Your talent for observation and
understanding marry well with
your poetry writing ability.


lucychili said...

sweet =)