She said she loved my writing skills
I hoped she would love me instead
It can start with the writing thrills
I would rather we start in bed
-----
Counting sheep till we fall asleep
Though I prefer to name famed cats
Morris and Maurice in one sweep
Pretending there were never rats
-----
The middle of the night, a sound
Reverberates across our heads
Someone’s awake and it’s not round
It’s longish, brutish and it spreads
-----
I try to forget its standing
Ovation to a time long gone
It keeps steadily expanding
It’s still not morning, Don Juan
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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Perfect Little Pirate
The rough, sodden rope bit into her fingers as she swung over the roiling water far below. Reaching out with the toe of her boot, she managed to catch hold of the rain-soaked railing of the ship- and promptly slipped. Throwing herself forward, she landed hard on the deck, slamming her elbows against the wood planks. The sharp yelp of pain quickly bubbled into a laugh, and she rolled onto her back, laughing up at the gray sky as a torrent of rain washed away the soot covering her skin.
By M. A. Mehan 4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Lol, I enjoyed this one a lot! Well done!