M’s destiny followed a fateful road
From birth to now’s eternity of Greece.
If there was a code, it rarely bestowed
Even a semblance of a so-called peace.
Why tarry over the few positives
Swiftly counted on a three-fingered hand
When the negatives had their codices
As if they were the only solely planned?
Because happiness is scarce, some will say
And one should cherish every rare moment.
How easy ’tis to betray or convey
A would-be non-wittier proponent!
M’s fortune was discovered overseas
Where blues and greens are reflected by trees.
-----
“I love you, my M.”
Three words, or five, appear to make all the difference, my Anthi, which is inherently sad.
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
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