Filed under: Ordinary
Alas, I have not said more than a word or two
Of the one who I know to be my true
Compatriate of the female sort
My fearless and noble cohort…
So here is a handful of jargon
For Kathi the snow on my trees,
The PB and J, the whole wheat bread,
The most best friend I’ve had yet
The lady who, with no need of luck,
Makes me run cheerfully amok…
She purports to do the dishes
More often than I,and insists on hugs and kisses.
I sometimes would like to abstain
But not always, you see, from the twain…
So to my surprise, when I don’t wash up
Kisses and hugs I have none as we sup
So I decide mostly to clean, and not to be mean
If I like to hug or kiss up…
Here was my rant about us
Though secrets were coded enough
So that you, should you not be
Her, wouldn’t understand everything, see?
This was the poem that is meant for the one
You rarely see in my rants and raves,
In my political, religious and winter tirades…
Here’s to her, the friend I love best
Who takes my complaining and pokes me in jest
Though I often fail to mention her in my blog
She is much better to me than a frog!
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