In the heat nothing so
vitalizing as a cascade
of coolant saline dripping
Sweet? No. Salty indeed
We work up a sweat
strolling through the street.
A king alone.
We dine at a wooden head.
That night at the Fort:
fireworks. No difference between
us. You are more fun than
golf. I am smitten.
No death hath become the
kitten.
About this poem: inspiration came from Shakespeare. But trust me, I am no poet. I am a sad, lost, pathetic soul. A madman, your honor. A pitiful excuse for a man. I am truly bad today. Not worth anything. But a hero must go on. So let's see, what else can I say? The obvious inspiration was my wife. And a desire to create. Maybe I'm not doing it right.
About the Creator
Casper Tales
Age: 37
Insurance broker by day, library owl by night. Avid writer, proud father, devoted husband, and novice chess player. B.Sc. from Queen's University.
Currently living in Alberta with my wife and two children.
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Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saunders6 days ago in Fiction
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