THE POET'S SOCIETY
poem by:
Reeves
Written
on Sep 27, 2016
There was Merton, Mole, Hedley and me, no room for someone like Justin G, who could not take a jest or a jibe, rather misconstrued it as a bad vibe. No matter, his loss is my gain, at the end of the day ( or poem ) I shall remain, true to myself without any rancour, and leave others to decide what they abhor. We're back in the lists with lances polnting, only one of us is qualified to do any anolnting, bless you my son for being so forthright, nothing is gained - try as you might. Finally, your folly we shall so remember, as all of us recall the 11th September.
Tags: sad, humor,
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Cecilia Crasto commented:
I enjoyed reading this poem.
A previous user
commented on Mar 01, 2018 at 11:31am
Nice touch at the end there :)
