Total Pageviews

Monday, April 7, 2014

Self Portrait

There is a gardener in the man,
scattering his seeds,
nurturing his spot of earth,
feeding more than a few needs.

There is a cook in him now,
comfort foods his best,
mostly vegan, sometimes not,
depending on the fest.

There is a husband in him too,
way past youthful fears,
he’s never won an argument,
not one in forty-five years.

There is a Marine somewhere inside,
one who fought beyond our borders,
though he approaches seventy,
he’s still home, awaiting orders.

There is a man of many words,
a writer, mostly a poet,
he sometimes likes his product,
that is, when he gets to it.

No comments:

Post a Comment