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seasons of change
by Charlie Morganwhile Sunday wiled away, she toyed
with the esplanade of ornaments
becoming to the tree;
trees for Christmas become fuller,
after Thanksgiving's sales deflate
pockets and fatten kid's hopes;
some santas become doorstops, some
Santas become alive in kid-dreams,
couchs lie about to be laid upon;
and memories of an old man become
fecund with nostalgic forces of
yesteryears made of Kodak.
in the wee mornings, life is good;
we even have warm feelings for Yankees.
11/25/2012 Posted on 11/25/2012
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/26/12 at 04:10 AM Nicely done, sir. |
| Posted by Steve Michaels on 11/26/12 at 04:43 AM Third stanza is SupahChocolate! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 11/26/12 at 01:07 PM Good write Charlie. |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 11/26/12 at 01:51 PM I was with you all the way til the last stanza, man. Mornin menus in WV just don't include grits and that's usually what starts an ongoing "yankee" tirade between me and my hubby, lol. I know. I know. Since you capitilized it, I suppose you're talking sports but it immediately made me think of grits. Great write. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 11/30/12 at 10:22 AM Great- Except for ONE little thing- GO METS!!!! No-one (except my MIL) has warm feelong for the Yankees! Great read! |
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