I pondered whether I could write any decent poetry.
No...ponder is too strong a word.
Worried is closer to the truth.
The garage roof is a wreck.
Shouldn't be hard to fix, really.
But somehow each day goes by
and the roof is still like it was.
This is kind of a problem.
It's not going to collapse in
for at least 25 years, I'd guess.
But I know the neighbors must hate it.
And so do I.
Guess I'll call some handyman guy
who knows what to do.
It's there,
Just past the monitor
in my field of view
like a permanent background
Saturday, May 06, 2006
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4 comments:
get somebody else to fix the roof - he'll have more money and you'll get time for more poetic journeys. you don;t have to do it all yourself, right?
you know it - if I start it, I'll end up paying someone anyway...so might as well give somebody who knows how the chance! Thanks for the visit.
Love how you ended this. The things we don't get done never go away!! Good poem!!
gotta call somebody this week...
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