Prompted Poem: Patience
Hours in traffic
with a busted aux cord.
A graphic mishap
at the cutting board.
Messes that make themselves
like hydras of clutter.
So much uncut grass
and the mower dies with a sputter.
The last of the butter
disappeared, and the toast,
now forced into nakedness,
is charred and quite gross.
Sickness and pain
and so many stubbed toes,
every conceivable
interruption of the flow,
and lo —
it amounts to nothing
but laughter and smiles.
If my day ends with you,
then all the while,
I'll have piles and piles
of patience.
About the Creator
Jacob Sherman
The desire to read, and perhaps to write, should be cultivated and nurtured with care throughout every stage of life. For my part I will inject what strangeness and truth that I can into our written history. Expect no constants but honesty.
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