Sunday, September 16, 2012

Foiled

There was some truth in that fiction. 
I saw it run down the block
and leap over a picket fence,
seeking refuge in a novelist's abode,
where it climbed through an open window
and was discovered, blunt and stout,
trying to hide behind a pen.

2 comments:

Sherri said...

Your quick mind amazes me! I couldn't think of something this clever if I worked on it for months! I did do another poem for my sister's birthday card, thanks to your encouragment, but next to your beautiful words, it sounds so juvenile I almost didn't put it in her card. She will love it anyway because she loves me. ha ha

Turquoise said...

Oh, Sherri, there is no one else on the face of this earth who could have written that poem of love for your sister, except you, in your own special way, with your own special card -- "perfectly Sherri." I wouldn't dare ask more of any poem. Thank you for your kind words . . .

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