A poem hovered near me the other day
while I was doing something else
possibly more important, I
can’t remember.
Giggling silently, it swished its yellow plastic
grass skirt,
tried to catch my eye.
‘Check me out’, it was
longing to say,
but it instead just lurked,
transmitting ‘catch me’, ‘catch me’
through its pores.
Preoccupied, tired, I was aware,
but not quite.
It was funny, maybe
even laugh-out-loud hilarious.
It wanted to be written in
rhyming couplets
for a joke; it was all
irony and winks and
hijinks.
I caught the tail of the poem
that preceded it, reeled it in,
but despite my inner
‘must write that down’
tasks overtook me. The cute
poem with the dancing eyes,
disconsolate,
went to play elsewhere.
Maybe my cheeky quirky poem will come back to
visit me. Maybe not.
Either way,
I’m not making the same mistake this time.
extraplorer 