Poems All Page
It was Sunday and the door opened - -
the parade began
They stroll down the avenue
wearing their bonnets as on Easter morning.
Flashing a “good day” to you,
their demeanor hints a secret subtle warning.
Luring you to stop and trade,
and as window shoppers do, you usually find,
a bevy of gifts displayed,
unique in form and style as revealed in inner mind.
Many sharp and clever,
many highs and lows and dreams which fluctuate.
Some ramble on forever.
Some seem obtuse, and others might not relate.
Many lilt, others may cry,
some love to act clever and subtly apprehensive.
But they are for you to try,
To stop, read, remark; they love the complimentive.
~//~
© Sept 2011 Charles Henderson
For Paula's “opened doors” contest
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