Poems Can Wait
My muse teases me, but I ignore her
She is in one of those joyful moods
That does not fit in well with my irritation
I am determined to hold on to anger a bit longer
Dragons, unicorns, fairies and witches she blubbers.
She is being playful and silly, but it is not where I am going.
Not today; today is my bad mad, angry, sad, mean day
Until I see my grandchild Max. He is six and a complete love bug.
He comes running in and twists his body around me like a feathered boa.
A smile as big as the house comes out of my face. Every thought is terrific now.
My muse tries to join in the fun, but it is not the time.
I am in grandma mode.
Poems can wait.
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